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THE 



Lady of the Lake 

A POEM IN SIX CANTOS 



Sir Walter Scott, Bart. 

VIGNETTE EDITION. WITH ONE HUNDRED 
NEIV I L LUSTRA TIONS 



Joseph M. Gleeson 




NEW YORK 

FREDERICK A. STOKIIS COMTANV 

MUCCCXCII 



\' 



Copyright, 1892 
Bv FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 






PUBLISHERS' NOTE. 



All tJic 7 'ol limes ifi tJic scries in 
which the *' Lady of the Lake " /> 
fiiblished^ are illustrated by original 
dra7oijii^s, made by 7vell-kiny:i.')i ar- 
tists ; but the publishers belie^'C that 
the illustrations in this 7'oluvie are 
ivorthy of more than ordinaiy at- 
tention . 

Mr. Joseph M. Gleeson 7oas eoni- 
viissioned to 7'isit Scotland^ and 
there he made the one hundred 
sLetelies 7(>hieh ha7'e been reproduced 
for the illustrations of this book. 

Mr. Cleeson\\- Toorh ctrrred a pe- 
riod o/' se7'eral months, and he exe- 
eufed it in a most aeeurate and care- 
ful manner. I lis sketches of scen- 
ery, costumes and 7ocapons, are the 
result of personal obsen'ation or 
thorough study. 



INTRODUCTION 

TO 

THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 



After the success of " Marmion," I felt inclined 
to exclaim with Ulysses in the " Odyssey " — 

Ovro^ fitv (U/ ciedTiog adarog kureTeTieoTai' 
'Nvv avre gkokov ciaIov. Odys. x 5' 6. 

" One venturous game my hand has won to-day — 
Another, gallants, yet remains to l^lay." 

The ancient manners, the habits and cus- 
toms of the aboriginal race by whom the 
Hii>hlands of Scotland were inhabited, had 
always appeared to me peculiarly adapted to 
poetry. The chanq^e in their manners, too, had 
taken place almost within my own time, or at 
least I had learned many particudars concerning- 
the ancient state of the llij^hlands from the 
old men of the last generation. 1 had always 
thou.i^iit tho old ScM)ltish (iacl hiiihly adapted 
for poetical composition. The Iciuls and polit- 



Introdiidioji. 



ical dissensions, which half a century earUer 
would have rendered the richer and wealthier 
part of the kingdom indisposed to countenance 
a poem, the scene of which was laid in the 
Highlands, were now sunk in the generous 
compassion which the English, more than any 
other nation, feel for the misfortunes of an 
honorable foe. The Poems of Ossian had, by 
their popularity, sufficiently shown that if writ- 
ings on Highland subjects were qualified to 
interest the reader, mere national prejudices 
were in the present day very unlikely to inter- 
fere with their success. 

I had also read a great deal, seen much, and 
heard more of that romantic country', where I 
was in the habit of spending some time every 
autumn ; and the scenery of Loch Katrine was 
connected with the recollection of many a dear 
friend and merry expedition of former days. 
This poem, the action of which lay among 
scenes so beautiful, and so deeply imprinted on 
my recollection, was a labor of love ; and it was 
no less so to recall the manners and incidents 
introduced. The frequent custom of James 
IV., and particularly of James \ ., to walk 
through their kingdom in disguise, afforded me 
the hint of an incident, which never fails to be 
interesting if managed with the slightest ad- 
dress or dexterity. 

I may now confess, however, that the em- 
ployment, though attended with great pleasure, 



Ijiirodiictioii, 5 



was not without its doubts and anxieties. A 
lady, to whom I was nearly related, and with 
whom I lived, during her whole life, on the 
most brotherly terms of affection, was residing 
with me at the time when the work was in 
progress, and used to ask me what I could 
possibly do to rise so early in the morning (that 
happening to be the most convenient time to 
me for composition). At last I told her the 
subject of my meditations ; and I can never 
forget the anxiety and affection expressed in 
her reply. " Do not be so rash," she said, 
** my dearest cousin.* You are already popu- 
lar — more so, perhaps, than you yourself will 
believe, or than even I, or other partial friends, 
can fairly allow to your merit. You stand 
high — do not rashly attempt to climb higher, 
and incur the risk of a fall ; for, depend upon 
it, a favorite will not be permitted even to stum- 
ble with impunity." I replied to this affection- 
ate expostulation in the words of Montrose — 

" He either fears his fate too imich, 
Or his deserts are small. 
Who (lar(\s not ])ut i( to thi^ toiu^h 
To gain or lose it all." 

* The lady with wlH)m Sir Walter Scott heltl this eoiiver- 
sation, was, no doubt, his aunt, Miss Christian Ruther- 
ford ; there was no other female relation ^Av/^/ when this 
Introduction was written, whom I can suppose him to 
have consulted on liti-rary cjuestions. Lady Capulet, on 
seeiii}^ the corpse of Tyhalt, exclaims 

" Tyl'all, my cousin ! oh my hiothei 's chiKl ' " I'"'' 



Infrodurtion. 



" It 1 iaii, I said, lor me dialogue is strong 
in my recoliection, -it is a sign that I ought 
never to have succeeded, and I will write prose 
for Ufe : you shall see no change in my temper, 
nor will 1 eat a single meal the worse. But if 
I succeed, — 

^ Up with the bonnie blue bonnet. 

The dirk, and the feather, and a* ! "" 

Afterwards I showed my affectionate and 
anxious critic the first canto of the poem, 
which reconciled her to my imprudence. 
Nevertheless, although I answered thus con- 
fidently, with the obstinacy often said to be 
proper to those who bear my surname, I 
acknowledge that my confidence was consider- 
ably shaken by the warning of her excellent 
taste and unbiassed friendship. Nor was I 
much comforted by her retraction of the un- 
favorable judgment, when I recollected how 
likely a natural partiality was to effect that 
change of opinion. In such cases, affection 
rises like a light on the canvas, improves any 
favorable tints which it formeriy exhibited, 
and throws its defects into the shade. 

I remember that about the same time a 
friend started in to "heeze up mv hope," like 
the *• sportsman with his cutty-gun," in the old 
song. He was bred a farmer, but a man of 
powerful understanding, natural good taste. 



l7ih'odiictio7i. 



and warm poetical feeling, perfectly competent 
to supply the wants of an imperfect or irregular 
education. He was a passionate admirer of 
field-sports, which we often pursued together. 

As this friend happened to dine with me at 
Ashesteil one day, I took the opportunity of 
reading to him the first canto of '* The Lady of 
the Lake," in order to ascertain the effect the 
poem was likely to produce upon a person who 
was but too favorable a representative of 
readers at large. It is, of course, to be sup- 
posed, that I determined rather to guide my 
opinion by what my friend might appear to feel 
than by what he might think fit to say. His 
reception of my recitation, or prelection, was 
rather singular. He placed his hand across his 
brow, and listened with great attention through 
the whole account of the stag-hunt, till the 
dogs threw themselves into the lake to follow 
their master, who embarks with Ellen Douglas. 
He then started up with a sudden exclamation, 
struck his hand on the table, and declared, in a 
voice of censure calculated for the occasion, 
that the dogs must have been totally ruined by 
being permitted to take the water after such a 
severe chase. I own I was miit^h cMu-ouraged 
by the species of reverie which had possessed 
so zealous a follower of the sjiorts of th«," 
an(Ment Nimrod. who had bcHMi coni|)let(l\ sur- 
prised out of all doubts of tlu' realitv of the 
lale. Another of his remarks «»ave me less 



8 Litrodnction. 



pleasure. He detected the identity of the King 
with the wandering knight, Fitz-James, when 
he winds his bugle to summon his attendants. 
He was probabl)^ thinking of the lively, but 
somew^hat licentious, old ballad, in which the 
denouement of a royal intrigue takes place as 
follows : — 

" He took a bugle frae his side, 
He blew both loud and slirill, 
And four-and-twenty belted knights 
Came skipping ower the hill ; 
Then he took out a little knife, 
Let a' his duddies fa'. 
And he was the brawest gentleman 
That was amang them a'. 

And w^e'll go no more a-roving," &c. 

This discovery, as Mr. Pepys says of the rent 
in his camlet cloak, was but a trifle, yet it 
troubled me ; and I was at a good deal of pains 
to efface any marks by which I thought my 
secret could be traced before the conclusion, 
when I relied on it with the same hope of pro- 
ducing effect, with which the Irish post-boy is 
said to reserve a " trot for the avenue." 

I took uncommon pains to verify the accu- 
racy of the local circumstances of this story. I 
recollect, in particular, that to ascertain whether 
I was telling a probable tale, I went into Perth- 
shire, to see whether King James could actually 
have ridden from the banks of Loch Vennachar 



Introduction. 



to Stirling Castle within the time supposed in 
the Poem, and had the pleasure to satisfy my- 
self that it was quite pmcticable. 

After a considerable delay, " The Lady of 
the Lake" appeared in June, 1810; and its 
success was certainly so extraordinary as to 
induce me for the moment to conclude that 1 
had at last fixed a nail in the proverbially incon- 
stant wheel of Fortune, whose stability in 
behalf of an individual who had so boldly 
courted her favor for three successive times 
had not as yet been shaken. I had attained, 
perhaps, that degree of public reputation at 
which prudence, or certainly timidity, would 
have made a halt, and discontinued efforts by 
which I was far more likely to diminish my 
fame than to increase it. lUit as the celebrated 
John Wilkes is said to have explained to his 
late i\Iajesty, that he himself, amid his full tide 
of popularity, was never a Wilkite, so 1 can, 
with honest truth, exculpate myself from having 
been at any time a partisan of niy own poetry, 
even when it was in the highest fashion with 
the million. It must not be supposed, that I 
was either so ungrateful, or so su[)eral)uiulantly 
candid, as to des[)ise (,)r scorn the \aliie of 
those whose voice had elevaled me so much 
higher than my own opinion lold me I deserved. 
I felt, on the contrary, the more (grateful to the 
public, as re(\'i\iiig thai from partiality to me, 
which I could not have claimcil fi'oin mc-rit ; 



Introduction. 



and I endeavored to desene the partiality, by 
continuing such exertions as 1 was capable of 
for their amusement. 

It may be that I did not, in this contmued 
course of scribbling, consult either the interest 
of the public or m\" own. But the former had 
effectual means of defending themselves, and 
could, by their coldness, sufficiently check any 
approach to intrusion ; and for myself, I had 
now for several years dedicated my hours so 
much to literary labor, that I should have felt 
difficulty in employing myself otherwise ; and 
so, like Dogberr\', I generously bestowed all 
my tediousness on the public, comforting my- 
self with the reflection, that if posterity should 
think me undeserving of the favor with which I 
was regarded by my contemporaries, " they 
could but say I had the crown," and had en- 
joyed for a time that popularity which is so 
much coveted. 

I conceived, however, that I held the distin- 
guished situation I had obtained, however 
unworthily, rather like the champion of pugil- 
ism,* on the condition of being always ready 
to show proofs of my skill, than in the 
manner of the champion of chivalr\', who per- 

♦ *• In twice five jears ihe * greatest liviuor poet,' 
Like to the champion in the fisty ring. 
Is called on to support his claim, or show it. 
Although 'tis an imaginary thing,""* etc. 

Don Juan^ canto xi. st. 53. 



Introduction. 1 1 



forms his duties only on rare and solemn 
occasions. I was in any case conscious that I 
could not long hold a situation which the 
caprice, rather than the judgment, of the 
public, had bestowed upon me, and preferred 
being deprived of my precedence by some 
more worthy rival, to sinking into contempt for 
my indolence, and losing my reputation by 
what Scottish lawyers call the negative pre- 
scriptiojt. Accordingly, those who choose to 
look at the Introduction to Rokeby, in the 
present edition, will be able to trace the steps 
by which I decline as a poet to figure as a 
novelist; as the ballad says, Queen Eleanor 
sunk at Charing-Cross to rise again at Oucen- 
hithe. 

It only remains for me to say, that, during 
my short pre-eminence of popularity, I faith- 
fully observed the rules of moderation which I 
had resolved to follow before I began my 
course as a man of letters. If a man is deter- 
mined to make a noise in the world, he is as 
sure to encounter abuse and ridicule, as he who 
gallops furiously through a village must reckon 
on being followed by the curs in full cM-y. 
Experienced persons know, that in stretching 
to flog the latter, the rider is very apt to catch 
a bad fall; nor is an attcm|)t to chastise a 
malignant critic attended with less danger to 
tlu' author. On this principle, I let jxirodv. 
binlc'S(iue, an(.l s(iuil)s liiul their own level; 



Introduction. 



and while the latter hissed most fiercely, I was 
cautious never to catch them up, as school-boys 
do, to throw them back against the naughty 
boy who hred them off, wisely remembering 
that they are, in such cases, apt to explode in 
the handling. Let me add, that my reign* 
(since Byron has so called it) was marked by 
some instances of good-nature as well as 
patience. I never refused a literary person of 
merit such services in smoothing his way to the 
public as were in my power ; and I had the 
advantage, rather an uncommon one with our 
irritable race, to enjo}^ general favor, without 
incurring permanent ill-will, so far as is known 
to me, among any of my contemporaries. 

W. S. 
Arbotsford, April (1S30). 

* " Sir Walter reig-n'd before.'' etc. 

Don J uan^Q,^w\.o xi. st. 57. 



ARGUMENT. 



The Scene of the following Poem is laid 
chiefly in the vicinity of Loch Katrine, in the 
Western Highlands of Perthshire. The time 
of action includes six days, and the transac- 
tions of each day occupy a Canto. 




Ellen. 




1^ 



THE 



The Lady of the Lake. 



CANTO FIRST. 
Thk Chase. 

Hari' of the North ! that moulderin^^- loiv^- lias 
huno^ 
On the witch-ehn that shades Saint l-'illan's 
sprini^, 
And down the litfu! breeze thy numbers tluni;. 

Till envious ivy (h'd around thee i^lint;. 
Muftlini;' with verdant rini^let every string.— 
() minstrel Harp, still must thine aeeents 
sleep ? 
Mid rustlin«'" leaves and fountains murmuiin'-, 



1 6 The LaJy of the Lake, 

Still must th\- sweeter sounds their silence 
keep. 
Nor bid a warrior sniile, nor teach a maid to 
weep ? 

Xot thus, in ancient days of Caledon, 

Was thy voice mute amid the festal crowd. 
When lay of hopeless love, or glory won. 

Aroused the fearful, or subidued the proud. 
At each according pause, was heard aloud. 

Thine ardent symphony sublime and high ! 
Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bovv'd 

For still the burden of thy minstrelsy 
Was Knighthood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's 
matchless eye. 

O wake once more ! how rude soe'er the hand 

That ventures o'er thy magic maze to stray ; 
O wake once more I though scarce my skill com- 
mand 

Some feeble echoing of thine earlier lay : 
Though harsh and faint, and soon to die away 

And all unworthy of thy nobler strain. 
Yet if one heart throb higher at its sway. 

The wizard note has not been touch'd in vain. 
Then silent be no more ! Enchantress, wake 
again ! 



The stag at eve had drunk his fill, 
Where danced the moon on Monan's rill. 



The Lady of the Lake, 17 




■^^■^<\f^^^ 



Till': SIACi Al \:\ i: IIAU UUl^Nk IIIS III.I.. 



The Lady of the Lake. 



And deep his midnight lair had made 

In lone Glenartney's hazel shade ; 

But, when the sun his beacon red 

Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head, 

The deep-mouth 'd bloodhound's heavy bay 

Resounded up the rocky way, 

And faint, from farther distance borne, 

Were heard the clanging hoof and horn, 

II. 

As Chief who hears his warder call, 

" To arms! the foemen storm the wall,"* 

The antler *d monarch of the waste 

Sprung from his heather}' couch in haste. 

But, ere his fleet career he took. 

The dewdrops from his flanks he shook ; 

Like crested leader proud and high, 

Toss'd his beam'd frontlet to the sky; 

A moment gazed ad own the dale. 

A moment snuff'd the tainted gale, 

A moment listen'd to the cry, 

That thicken'd as the chase drew nigh ; 

Then, as the headmost foes appear'd, 

With one brave bound the copse he clear'd. 

And, stretching forward free and far, 

Sought the wild heaths of Uam-A'ar. 

III. 

Yeird on the view the opening pack ; 
Rock, glen, and cavern, paid them back : 



The Lady of the Lake, 



19 



To many a mingled sound at once 
The awaken'd mountain gave response, 
A hundred dogs bay'd deep and strong, 
Clattr'd a hundred steeds along, 
Their peal the merry horns rung out, 
A hundred voices join'd the shout ; 
With hark and whoop and wild halloo. 
No rest Benvoirlich's echoes knew. 
Far from the tumult fled the roe. 
Close in her covert cower'd the doe, 




)M'; wool). 



The fah^on, from her (\'iiiii on hi^h. 
Cast on the rout a wondering eye, 
Till far beyond her piercing ken 
The luirri(\'inc had swept the glen. 
Faint, and more faint, its failing din 
Kelurn'd from cavei-n. cliff, and linn. 
And silence settled, wide and still. 
On the lone wood .ind mii^hlv hill. 



20 



21ie Lady of the Lake. 



IV. 

Less loud the sounds of sylvan war 
Disturbed the heights of Uam-Var, 
And roused the cavern, where, 'tis told, 
A giant made his den of old ; 
For ere that steep ascent was won. 
High in his pathway hung the sun. 
And many a gallant, stayed perforce. 
Was fain to breathe his faltering horse 
And of the trackers of the deer. 
Scarce half the lessening pack was near ; 
So shrewdly on the mountain side 
Had the bold burst their mettle tried. 

Y. 

The noble stag was pausing now. 
Upon the moim tain's southern brow. 




F.MK Mexteith. 



The Lady of the Lake, 



21 



Where broad extended, far beneath, 
The varied realms of fair Menteith, 
With anxious eye he wander'd o'er 
Mountain and meadow, moss and moor. 
And ponder'd refuge from his toil. 
By far Lochard or Aberfoyle. 




Log HARD. 



lUit nearer was the copsewood i^ray. 
That waved and wept on Loch-Achray, 
And mingled with the pine-trees blue 
On the bold cliffs of Benvenue. 
Fresh vigor with the hope return'd, 
With Hying foot the heath he spurn'd. 
I Ic'ld westward with uiuvearied r.uH*. 
Aiul left behind the p.niling chase. 



22 



The Lady of the Lake. 



VI. 

'Twere long to tell what steeds gave o'er, 
As swept the hunt through Cambus-more ; 
What reins were tighten'd in despair, 
When rose Benledi's ridge in air ; 




Benledi. 



Who flagged upon Bochastle's heath, 
Who shunn'd to stem the flooded Teith- 
For twice that day, from shore to shore, 
The gallant stag swam stoutly o'er. 



The Lady of the Lake, 



23 



Few were the stragglers, following far, 
That reached the lake of Vennachar ; 
And when the Brigg of Turk was won, 
The headmost horseman rode alone. 




■^.„ J 



Loch Vennachar. 



VII. 

y\lonc, but witii unhaU'd zeal, 
That horseman plied the scourge and steel 
For jaded now, and spent with toil, 
Emboss'd with foam, and dark with soil. 
While every gasj) with sobs he drew. 
The laboring stag strain'd full in view. 
Two dogs of black Saint lliibeit's breed. 
Unmatch'd for coinage, bicaih. and speed 



24 



The Lady of the Lake. 



Fast on his flying traces came, 
And all but won that desperate game ; 
For, scarce a spear's length from his haunch 
Vindictive toil'd the bloodhounds stanch ; 




"-^c- 



The Bkigg of Tlrk. 



The Lady of tJic Lake. 




"%'■■ 




m 






26 



The Lady of the Lake, 



''\ \ 




"^w*i. 




Nor nearer might the dogs attain. 
Nor farther might the quarn* strain. 
Thus up the margin of the lake. 
Between the precipice and brake. 
O'er stock and rock their race they take. 




Vindictive toil'l. the bloodhoc-nds stanch. 



The Lady of the Lake. 27 



VIII. 

The Hunter mark'd that mountain high, 
The lone lake's western boundary, 




In TIM': i)i;i:i' 'i"K<>s.\( ii's wii.DKsr nook 



28 The Lady of the Lake. 

And deem'd the stag must turn to bay, 
Where that huge rampart barr'd the way ; 
Already glorying in the prize, 
Measured his antlers with his eyes ; 
For the death-wound and death-halloo, 
Muster'd his breath, his whinyard drew ; — 
But thundering as he came prepared, 
With ready arm and weapon bared, 
The wily quarry shunn'd the shock, 
And turn'd him from the opposing rock ; 
Then, dashing down a darksome glen. 
Soon lost to hound and hunter's ken. 
In the deep Trosachs' wildest nook 
His solitary refuge took. 
There, while close couch'd, the thicket shed 
Cold dews and wild-flowers on his head. 
He heard the baffled dogs in vain 
Rave through the hollow pass amain, 
Chiding the rocks that yell'd again. 

IX. 

Close on the hounds the Hunter came, 
To cheer them on the vanished game ; 
But stumbling in the rugged dell, 
The gallant horse exhausted fell. 
The impatient rider strove in vain 
To rouse him with the spur and rein. 
For the good steed, his labors o'er, 
Stretch'd his stiff limbs, to rise no more ; 
Then, touch'd with pity and remorse. 
He sorrow'd o'er the expiring horse. 



21ie Lady of the Lake. 



29 



X . 




^ 



Thai (oms iiis i.ii i-, mv (.ai.i.ani <.\<.\\. 



The LcJifv of the Lake. 



" I little thought, when hrst thy rein 
I slack'd upon the banks of Seine, 
That Highland eagle e'er should feed 
On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed ! 
Woe worth the chase, woe worth the day. 
That costs thy life, my gallant gray ! " 

X. 

Then through the dell his horn resounds. 
From vain pursuit to call the hounds. 
Back limp'd, with slow and crippled pace. 
The sulky leaders of the chase ; 
Close to their master s side they press'd 
With drooping tail, and humbled crest ; 
But still the dingle's hollow throat 
Prolong'd the swelling bugle-note. 
The owlets started from their dream. 
The eagles answer 'd with their scream. 
Round and around the sounds were cast. 
Till echo seem'd an answering blast ; 
And on the Hunter hied his way. 
To join some comrades of the day ; 
Yet often paused, so strange the road. 
So wondrous were the scenes it show'd. 

XI. 

The wesierrx waves of ebbing dav 
RoH'd o'er the glen their level way ; 
Each purple peak, each flinty spire. 
Was bathed in floods of living fire. 



The Lady of the Lake. 




Was bathed im floods of living fire. 



Rut not a setting beam could glow 
Within the dark ravines below, 
Where twined the path in shadow hid, 
Round many a rocky pyramid. 
Shooting abruptly from the dell 
Its thunder-s[)linter'd pinnacle ; 
Round many an insulated mass, 
The native bulwarks of the pass, 
Huge as the tower which builders vain 
Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plain. 
The rocky summits, split and rent, 
Form'd turret, dome, or battlement. 
Or seem'd fantastically set 
With cuj^ola or minaret, 
Wild crests as pagod ever deck'd, 
Or moscjue of I'^astern architect. 
Nor were these earth-born castles bare, 
Nor lack'd they many a !)anncr fair; 
Vox, from their shi\'ci''(l brow.^; displaxed 
h'ar, o'er the unfathomable glade, 
All twinkling with the dewdrop sheen. 
The hi'iar-rose lelt \\\ sti'eamei's ''reen, 



The Ladx ,^f th:: Lah: 



And creeping shrubs, of thousand dyes. 
Waved in the west-wind's summer sighs. 

XII. 

Boon nature scatter *d free and wild. 
Each plant or flower, the mountain's child. 
Here eglantine embalm'd the air. 
Hawthorn and hazel mingled there ; 
The primrose pale and violet flower. 




Found in each clift a narrow bower ; 
Fox-glove and night-shade, side by side. 
Emblems of punishment and pride, 
Group'd their dark hues with ever\- stain 
The weather-beaten crags retain. 
With boughs that quaked at every breath. 
Gray birch and aspen wept beneath ; 
Aloft, the ash and warrior oak 
Cast anchor in the rifted rock ; 



The Lady oj t/ie Lake. 



33 



And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung 

His shatter'd trunk, and frequent flung, 

Where seem'd the cliffs to meet on high, 

His boughs athwart the narrow'd sky. 

Highest of all, where white 
peaks glanced. 

Where glist'ning stream- 
ers waved and 
danced. 

The wanderer's eye could 
barely view 

The summer heaven's de- 
licious blue ; 

So wondrous wild, the 
whole might seem 

The scenery of a fairy 
dream. 

XIII. 

Onward, amid the copse 

'gan peep 
A narrow inlet, still and 

deep, 
Affording s(\irce s u c h 

brcadlh of brim, 
As served the wild (hu^k's 

brood to swim. 
Lost for a sp.'UH-. through thickets veering. 
lUit broader w iuii again appearing. 
Tall rocks and tnltcd knolls tluii" fare 
Conld on llic dark-bhu- mirror tract- ; 




His lun (.MS A I HW AKT 
'IIII-: NAKKOU'l) SKW 



34 ^^^^' Lady of tJie Lake. 

And farther as the Hunter stray'cl, 
Still broader sweep its channels made. 
The shaggy mounds no longer stood. 
Emerging from entangled wood, 
But, wave-encircled, seem'd to float, 
Like castle girdled with its moat ; 
Yet broader floods extending still 
Divide them from their parent hill, 
Till each, retiring, claims to be 
An islet in an inland sea. 

XIV. 

And now, to issue from the glen, • 

No pathway meets the wanderer's ken, 

Unless he climb, with' footing nice, 

A far projecting precipice. 

The broom's tough roots his ladder made, 

The hazel saplings lent their aid ; 

And thus an airy point he won, 

Where, gleaming with the setting sun. 

One burnish'd sheet of living gold, 

Loch Katrine lay beneath him roll'd, 

In all her length far winding lay, 

With promontory, creek, and bay, 

And islands that, empurpled bright, 

Floated amid the livelier light, 

And mountains, that like giants stand. 

To sentinel enchanted land. 

High on the south, huge Ben venue 

Down on the lake in masses threw 



The Lady of the Lake. 35 




Nf) I'ATMWAY MEETS IHK WANDEKER's KEN, 



Crai;s, knolls, and inouiuls. roiifuscilly luni'd, 
The frag^mcnts of an earlier world ; 
A wilderini^- forest feather'd o'er 
I lis ruiii'd sides and snininit hoar. 
While on the north, throni^h middle air. 
Ben-an heaved high liis forehead bare. 



o 



6 The Lady of ihe Lake. 



XV. 

From the steep promontory gazed 

The stranger, raptured and amazed. 

And, " What a scene were here/' he cried. 

" For princely pomp, or churchman's pride I 

On this bold brow, a lordly tower ; 

In that soft vale, a lady's bower ; 

On yonder meadow, far away. 

The turrets of a cloister gray ; 

How blithely might the bugle-horn 

Chide, on the lake, the lingering morn 

How sweet, at eve, the lover's lute 

Chime, when the groves were still and mute I 

And, when the midnight moon shall lave 

Her forehead in the silver wave. 

How solemn on the ear would come 

The holy matins' distant hum, 

While the deep peal's commanding tone 

Should wake, in yonder islet lone, 

A sainted hermit from his cell. 

To drop a bead with every knell — 

And bugle, lute, and bell, and all. 

Should each bewilder'd stranger call 

To friendlv feast and lio^hted hall. 



X\T. 

" Blithe were it then to wander here I 
But now — beshrew von nimble deer,- 



T/ic Lady of t/ic Lake. 37 

Like that same hermit's, thin and spare, 
The copse must give my evening fare ; 
Some mossy bank my couch must be, 
Some rustling oak my canopy. 
Yet pass we that ; the war and chase 
Give little choice of resting-place ; — 
A summer night, in greenwood spent. 
Were but to-morrow's merriment :• 
But hosts may in these wilds abound, 
Such as are better missed than found ; 
To meet with Highland plunderers here, 
Were worse than loss of steed or deer. — 
I am alone ; — my bugle-strain 
May call some straggler of the train 
Or, fall the worst that may betide, 
Ere now this falchion has been tried." 



XVII. 

But scarce again his horn he wound, 
When lo ! forth starting at the sound, 
From uiulcriiCcUh an aged oak, 
That slanted from the islet rock, 
A damsel guider of iis way, 
A little skill shot to the bay. 
That round ihe j^romontorv steep 
Led its deep line in graceful sweep. 
Eddying, in almost viewless wa\t\ 
The weeping willow twig to la\-e, 
.And kiss, with whispci^iiig soiiiul :ind 
The hcicli of pebbles l)i"i">hl as snow. 



38 



Th3 Lady of the LaJze. 




Mv BUGLE-STRAIN MAY CALL SOME STRAGGLER OF THE TRALV. 



27ie Lady of the Lake. 39 

The boat had touch'd this silver strand, 
Just as the Hunter left his stand, 
And stood conceal'd amid the brake, 
To view this Lady of the Lake. 
The maiden paused, as if again 
She thought to catch the distant strain. 
With head up-raised, and look intent, 
And eye and ear attentive bent, 
And locks flung back, and lips apart, 
Like monument of Grecian art. 
In listening mood, she seem'd to stand 
The guardian Naiad of the strand. 

XVTIL 

And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace 

A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, 

Of finer form, or lovelier face ! 

What though the sun with ardent frown, 

Had slightly tinged her cheek with brown, — 

The sportive toil, which, short and light. 

Had dyed her glowing hue so bright, 

Served too in hastier swell to show 

Short glimpses of a breast of snow: 

What though no rule of courtly grace 

To measured mood had train'd her pace, — 

A foot more light, a step more true. 

Ne'er from the hcath-llowcr dash'd the dew ; 

E'en the slight harebell raiscnl its head. 

Elastic from her airy tread : 

What though upon Ium* spcci^h there hung 

The accents of the moiuUain toui-ui. 



40 The LaJy of the Lake, 

Those silver sounds, so soft, so clear. 
The Hst'ner held his breath to hear ! 

XIX. 

A Chieftain's daughter seem'd the maid ; 

Her satin snood, her silken plaid. 

Her golden brooch, such birth betray 'd. 

And seldom was a snood amid 

Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid. 

Whose glossy black to shame might bring 

The plumage of the raven's wing ; 

And seldom o'er a breast so fair, 

Mantled a plaid with modest care, 

And never brooch the folds combined 

Above a heart more good and kind. 

Her kindness and her worth to spy 

You need but gaze on Ellen's eye : 

Not Katrine, in her mirror blue, 

Gives back the shaggy banks more true. 

Than every free-born glance confess'd 

The guileless movements of her breast ; 

Whether joy danced in her dark eye, 

Or woe or pity claim'd a sigh, 

Or filial love was glowing there. 

Or meek devotion poured a prayer. 

Or tale of injury called forth 

The indignant spirit of the North. 

One only passion unreveal'd, 

With maiden pride the maid conceal'd. 

Yet not less purely felt the flame ; — 

O need I tell that passion's name ! 



The Lady of the Lake. 



XX. 

Impatient of the silent horn, 
Now on the gale her voice was borne : — 
*' Father ! " she cried ; the rocks around 
Loved to prolong the gentle sound. 
A while she paused, no answer came,- 
" Malcolm, was thine the blast ? " the name 
Less resolutely utter'd fell, 
The echoes could not catch the swell. 
"A stranger I," the Huntsman said, 
Advancing from the hazel shade. 
The maid, alarmed, with hasty oar 
Pushed her light shallop from the shore, 
And when a space was gained between. 
Closer she drew her bosom's screen ; 
(So forth the startled swan would swing. 
So turn to prune his ruffled wing), 
'Jlien safe, though Ikitter'd and amazed, 
She paused, and on the stranger gazed. 
Not his the form, nor his the eye, 
That youthful maidens wont to tly. 

XXL 

On his bold visage middle age 
Had slightly press'd its signet sage, 
Yet had not quench'd thr open truth 
And fiery vehemence of youth; 
Korwai'd and h'olic glee was tlici'c, 
The will to do. the soul to kVwv, 



llie Lady of tlu Lake. 



The sparkling glance, soon blown to fire. 

Of hasty love, or headlong ire. 

His limbs were cast in manly mould, 

For hardy sports or contest bold ; 

And though in peaceful garb array'd, 

And weaponless, except his blade, 

His stately mien as well impHed 

A high-born heart, a martial pride, 

As if a Baron's crest he wore, 

And sheathed in armor trode the shore, 

Slighting the petty need he show'd 

He told of his benighted road ; 

His ready speech flow'd fair and free, 

In phrase of gentlest courtesy ; 

Yet seem'd that tone, and gesture bland. 

Less used to sue than to command. 



XXII. 

A while the maid the stranger eyed. 
And, reassured, at length replied, 
That Highland halls were open still 
To wilder'd wanderers of the hill. 
'* Nor think you unexpected come 
To yon lone isle, or desert home ; 
Before the heath had lost the dew. 
This morn, a couch was puU'd for you ; 
On yonder mountain's purple head 
Have ptarmigan and heath-cock bled. 
And our broad nets have swept the mere, 
'!'() furnish forth vour evening- cheer." 



The Lady of the Lake. 



43. 



" Now, by the rood, my lovely maid, 
Your courtesy has err'd," he said ; 
" No right have I to claim, misplaced. 
The welcome of expected guest. 
A wanderer here by fortune tost, 
My way, my friends, my courser lost, 
I ne'er before, believe me, fair, 
Have ever drawn your mountain air, 
Till on this lake's romantic strand, 
I found a fay in fairy land I " 




^'V. 



THIS l.AKK S ROMAN I IC SKKAND. 



Will. 

" 1 well hclicvc," the maid rcpliid. 
As her \v^\\\ skiff appio.iilu'd llu- side. 



44 '^fi^ Lady of the Lake. 

" I well believe that ne'er before 

Your foot has trod Loch Katrine's shore ; 

But yet, as far as yesternight, 

Old Allan-Bane foretold your plight, — 

A gray-hair'd sire, whose eye intent 

Was on the vision'd future bent. 

He saw your steed, a dappled gray, 

Lie dead beneath the birchen way ; 

Painted exact your form and mien, 

Your hunting-suit of Lincoln green, 

That tassell'd horn so gayly gilt. 

That falchion's crooked blade and hilt, 

That cap with heron plumage trim, 

And yon two hounds so dark and grim. 

He bade that all should ready be. 

To grace a guest of fair degree ; 

But light I held his prophecy. 

And deem'd it was my father's horn, 

Whose echoes o'er the lake were borne. " 

XXIV. 

The stranger smiled : " Since to your home 

A destined errant-knight I come, 

Announced by prophet sooth and old, 

Doom'd, doubtless, for achievement bold, 

ni lightly front each high emprise, 

For one kind glance of those bright eyes. 

Permit me, first, the task to guide 

Your fairy frigate o'er the tide." 

The maid, with smile suppress'd and sly. 

The toil unwonted saw him trv ; 



I'/ie Lady of the Lake, 45 

For seldom sure, if e'er before, 

His noble hand had grasp'd an oar ; 

Yet with main strength his strokes he drew, 

And o'er the lake the shallop flew ; 

With heads erect, and w-himpering cry. 

The hounds behind their passage ply. 

Nor frequent does the bright oar break 

The dark'ning mirror of the lake. 

Until the rocky isle they reach. 

And moor their shallop on the beach. 

XXV. 

The stranger view'd the shore around ; 
'T was all so close with copsewood bound. 
Nor track nor pathway might declare 
That human foot frequented there, 
Until the mountain-maiden show'd 
A clambering unsuspected road, 
That winded through the tangled screen, 
And open'd on a narrow green, 
Where weeping birch and willow round 
With their long fibres swept the grcnuvl. 
Here, for retreat in dangerous hour, 
Some chief had framed a rustic bower. 

\X\T. 

It was a Iodide of ample si/e. 

1)111 straiigr of striicUire and drvKX- ; 

nf such mad-rials, as around 

'Hie workman's hand had rradicsl found. 



46 



The L(T(iy of the Lake. 



lA-..-^ 



\ '%Vo 




The Lady of the Lake. 



47 




- W^ ¥ 



Some chief had framed 
a rustic bovver. 



Lopp'd of their boughs, their hoar trunks 

bared , 
And by the hatchet rudely squared, 
To give the walls their destined height, 
I'he sturdy oak and ash unite; 
While moss and clay and leaves conibined 
To fence each crevice from the wind. 
The lighter pine-trees, overhead, 
Their slender length for rafters sj-jread, 
And wither'd heath and rushes dry 
Supplied a russet canopy. 
Due westward, fronting to the green, 
A rural portico was seen. 
Aloft on native })illars borne, 
Of mountain fir with bark unshorn. 
Where I-'Jlen's hand liad taught to twine 
The ivy and Ida-an \ iiie, 



48 The Lady of the Lake. 

The clematis, the favor'd flower 
Which boasts the name of vir^^in-bower, 
And every hardy plant could bear 
Loch Katrine's keen and searching air. 
An instant in this porch she stayed, 
And gayly to the stranger said, 
** On heaven and on thy lady call, 
And enter the enchanted hall I" 

XXVII. 

"■ My hope, my heaven, my trust must be 

My gentle guide, in following thee." 

He cross'd the threshold — and a clang 

Of angry steel that instant rang. 

To his bold brow his spirit rush'd, 

But soon for vain alarm he blush'd. 

When on the floor he saw display'd. 

Cause of the din, a naked blade 

Dropp'd from the sheath, that careless flung 

Upon a Slag's huge antlers swung ; 

For all around the walls to grace, 

Hung trophies of the fight or chase ; 

A target there, a bugle here, 

A battle-axe, a hunting spear, 

And broadswords, bows, and arrows store 

With the tusk'd trophies of the boar. 

Here grins the wolf as when he died, 

And there the wild-cat's brindled hide 

The frontlet of the elk adorns, 

Or mantles o'er the bison's horns ; 



The Lady of the Lake. 49 






'^.r 






U. ^ I 




Tkophies of the fight ok chase. 

Pennons and flags defaced and stain'd 
That blackening streaks of blood retain'd 
And deer-skins, dappled, dun, and white, 
With otter's furs and seal's unite, 
In rude and uncouth tapestry all, 
To garnish forth the sylvan hall. 

XXVIII. 

The woii(l(M-ini;- stranger round him ga/cd 
And next the fallen weapon raised : — 



5© The Lady of t/u Lake. 

Few were the arms whose sinewy strength 

Sufficed to stretch it forth at length. 

And as the brand he poised and sway'd, 

'' I never knew but one," he said, 

*• Whose stalwart arm might brook to wield 

A blade like this in battle-field." 

She sigh'd, then smiled, and took the word ; 

** You see the guardian champion's sword ; 

As light it trembles in his hand. 

As in my grasp a hazel wand ; 

My sire's tall form might grace the part 

Of Ferragus, or Ascabart ; 

But in the absent giant's hold 

Are women now, and menials old." 



XXIX. 

The mistress of the mansion came, 

]\Iature of age, a graceful dame ; 

Whose easy step and stately port 

Had well become a princely court, 

To whom, though more than kindred knew, 

Young Ellen gave a mother's due. 

]\Ieet welcome to her guest she made, 

And every courteous rite was paid. 

That hospitalit}^ could claim. 

Though all unask'd his birth and name. 

Such then the reverence of a guest, 

That fellest foe might join the feast, 

And from his deadliest foeman's door 

Unquestion'd turn, the banquet o'er. 



The Lady of the Lake. 5 i 




I NK\ I'.k KNKW lu r oMC," III-: SAID, "\\iii>sh: sr.M.\v\Kr 

ARM MILilir HKOOK-TO WIKLU A MLADE I. IKK IHIS 
IN BATTLE-KIELD." 



52 



The Lady of the Lake. 




1 HE MISTRESS OF THE jMANSION CAIME. 



At length his rank the stranger names, 
" The Knight of Snowdoun, James 

James ; 
Lord of a barren heritage, 
Which his brave sires, from age to age, 
By their good swords had held with toil; 
His sire had fall'n in such turmoil, 
And he, God wot, was forced to stand 
Oft for his right with blade in hand. 



Fitz- 



21ie Lady of the Lake. 53 

This morning with Lord Moray's train 
He chased a stalwart stag- in vain, 
Outstripp'd his comrades, miss'd the deer, 
Lost his good steed, and wander'd here." 

XXX. 

Fain would the Knight in turn require 
The name and state of Ellen's sire. 
Well show'd the elder lady's mien, 
That courts and cities she had seen ; 
Ellen, though more her looks display'd 
The simple grace of sylvan maid, 
In speech and gesture, form and face, 
Show'd she was come of gentle race. 
' T were strange in ruder rank to find 
Such looks, such manners, and such mind. 
Each hint the Knight of Snowdoun gave, 
Dame Margaret heard with silence grave ; 
Or Ellen, innocently gay, 
Turn'd all inquiry light away : — 
" Weird women we ! by dale and down 
We dwell, afar from tower and town. 
We stem the flood, we ride the blast. 
On wandering knights our spells we cast ; 
While viewless minstrels touch the string. 
'T is thus our charmed rhymes we sing." 
She sung, and still a harp unseen 
V\\\\\ up the symphony brtween. 



54 ^'/^^' Lady of the Lake. 

XXXI. 

SOXG. 

•* Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, 

Sleep the sleep that knows no breaking ; 
Dream of battled fields no more, 

Days of danger, nights of waking. 
In our isle's enchanted hall, 

Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, 
Fairy strains of music fall. 

Every sense in slumber dewing. 
Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, 
Dream of fighting fields no more ; 
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, 
Morn of toil, nor night of waking. 

'' Xo rude sound shall reach thine ear, 

Armor's clang, or war-steed champing, 
Trump nor pibroch summon here 

Mustering clan, or squadron tramping. 
Yet the lark's shrill fife may come 

At the daybreak from the fallow, 
And the bittern sound his drum, 

Booming from the sedgy shallow. 
Ruder sounds shall none be near. 
Guards nor warders challenge here, 
Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing 
Shouting clans, or squadrons stamping." 



The Lady of the Lake. 55 



XXXII. 

She paused — then, blushing, led the lay 
To grace the stranger of the day. 
Her mellow notes awhile prolong 
The cadence of the flowing song, 
Till to her lips in measured frame 
The minstrel verse spontaneous came. 

SONG CONTINUED. 

" Huntsman, rest ! thy chase is done. 

While our slumbrous spells assail ye, 
Dream not, with the rising sun, 

Bugles here shall sound reveille. 
Sleep ! the deer is in his den ; 

Sleep ! thy hounds are by thee lying ; 
Sleep ! nor dream in yonder glen, 

How thy gallant steed lay dying. 
Huntsman, rest ; thy chase is done, 
Think not of the rising sun. 
For at dawning to assail ye, 
Here no bugles sound reveille." 

XXXIII. 

The hall was c^iear'd — the stranger's bin! 
Was there of mountain heathiM* spread. 
Where oft a hundred guests had lain, 
And drcam'd their forest sports again. 
I)Ul vainly did the lu-ath-llowcr slu'd 
Us moorland fragrance louiul his lu\ul ; 



5 6 The Lady of the Lake. 

Not Ellen's spell had luU'd to rest 

The fever of his troubled breast. 

In broken dreams the image rose 

Of varied perils, pains, and woes : 

His steed now flounders in the brake, 

Now sinks his barge upon the lake ; 

Now leader of a broken host, 

His standard falls, his honor's lost. 

Then, — from my couch may heavenly might 

Chase that worst phantom of the night I — 

Again return 'd the scenes of youth, 

Of confident undoubting truth ; 

Again his soul he interchanged 

With friends whose hearts were long estranged. 

They come, in dim procession led. 

The cold, the faithless, and the dead ; 

As warm each hand, each brow as gay, 

As if they parted yesterday. 

And doubt distracts him at the view, 

O were his senses false or true ! 

Dream'd he of death, or broken vow, 

Or is it all a vision now ! 



XXXIV. 

At length, with Ellen in a grove 

He seem'd to walk, and speak of love ; 

She listen'd with a flush and sigh, 

His suit was w^arm, his hopes were high. 

He sought her yielded hand to clasp, 

And a cold gauntlet met his grasp : 



The Lady of the Lake. 



57 



The phantom's sex was changed and gone, 

Upon its head a helmet shone ; 

Slowly enlarged to giant size, 

With darkened cheek and threatening eyes, 







.^^ 



t/^'- 



UroN lis IIKAI) A MHLMKI- SIIONli. 



The grisly visage, stern and hoar. 
To Kllen still a likeiuss bore. — 
He woke, and, panting with affright. 
Kc'call'd the vision of the night. 



58 The Lady of the Lake. 

The hearth's decaying brands were red, 

And deep and dusky lustre shed, 

Half showing, half concealing, all 

The uncouth trophies of the hall. 

Mid those the stranger fix'd his eye. 

Where that huge falchion hung on high, 

And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng, 

Rush'd, chasing countless thoughts along, 

Until, the giddy whirl to cure, 

He rose, and sought the moonshine pure. 

XXXV. 

The wild-rose, eglantine, and broom. 
Wasted around their rich perfume : . 
The birch-trees wept in fragrant balm. 
The aspens slept beneath the calm ; 
The silver light, with quivering glance, 
Play'd on the w^ater's still expanse, — 
Wild were the heart whose passions' sway 
Could rage beneath the sober ray ! 
He felt its calm, that warrior guest. 
While thus he communed with his breast : — 
** Why is it, at each turn I trace 
Some memory of that exil'd race } 
Can I not mountain-maiden spy. 
But she must bear the Douglas eye ? 
Can I not view a Highland brand. 
But it must match the Douglas hand ? 
Can I not frame a fever'd dream. 
But still the Douglas is the theme } 



The Lady of the Lake. 



59 




And moumng dawnku on Blnvenue. 



I'll dream no iiiorc^ 

by manly mind 
Not even in sleep is 

will resign *d.. 
My midnii^-ht orisons 

said o'er, 
I'll turn to rest, and 

dream no more." 



His midnit^'lit orisons he told, 
A prayer with every bead of gold, 
Consigned to heaven his cares and woes, 
And sunk in undisturb'd repose; 
Until the heath-cock shrilly crew, 
And morniii'*" daw ii'd on iuMU'eiuie. 



6o The Lady of ilie Lake 



CANTO SECOND. 

The Island. 

I. 

At morn the black-cock trims his jetty wing, 

'Tis morning prompts the Hnnet's blithest lay. 
All Nature's children feel the matin spring 

Of life reviving, with reviving day ; 
And while yon httle bark glides down the bay. 

Wafting the stranger on his way again. 
Morn's genial intiuence roused a minstrel gra)^ 

And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain, 
]\Iix'd with the sounding harp, O white-hair'd 
Allan-Bane I 

II. 

SONG. 

•* Not faster yonder rowers' might 
Flings from their oars the spray. 
Not faster yonder rippling bright 
That tracts the shallop's course in light, 

]\Ielts in the lake away. 
Than man from memory erase 
The benefits of former days ; 
Then, stranger, go ! good speed the while, 
Nor think aq;ain of the lonelv isle. 



The Lady of the Lake. 6i 

' High place to thee in royal court, 

High place in battle line, 
Good hawk and hound for sylvan sport, 
Where beauty sees the brave resort, 

The honor'd meed be thine ! 
True be thy sword, thy friend sincere, 
Thy lady constant, kind, and dear, 
And lost in love and friendship's smile 
Be memory of the lonely isle. 

HI. 
SONG CONTINUED. 

' But if beneath yon southern sky 

A plaided stranger roam. 
Whose drooping crest and stilled sigh, 
And sunken cheek and heavy eye, 

Pine for his Highland home; 
Then, warrior, then be thine to show 
The care that soothes a wanderer's woe ; 
Kcmember then thy hap ere while, 
A stranger in the lonely isle. 

' Or if on life's uncertain main 

Mishap shall mar thy sail ; 
if faithful, wise, and brave in vain. 
Woe, want, and exile thou sustain 

lieneath the fickle gale ; 
Waste not a sigh on fortune changed. 
( )n thanklc-ss courts, or friends estranged. 
But eoine wlierc kiii'lrcd worth shaU smile. 
To '-rcrt thee in the loiuh' isle." 



62 



The Lady of the Lake. 



IV. 

As died the sounds upon the tide, 
The shallop reach'd the mainland side, 
And ere his onward way he took, 
The stranger cast a lingering look, 




If beneath yon southern sky 
a plaided stranger roam. 



Where easily his eye might reach 
The Harper on the islet beach, 
Reclined against a blighted tree, 
As wasted, gray, and worn as he. 



77/ J Lady of the Lake. 63 

To minstrel meditation given, 

His reverend brow was raised to heaven, 

As from tlie rising- sun to claim 

A sparkle of inspiring flame. 

His hand reclined upon the wire, 

Seem'd watching the awakening fire ; 

So still he sate, as those who wait 

Till judgment speak the doom of fate ; 

So still, as if no breeze might dare 

To lift one lock of hoary hair ; 

So still, as life itself were fled, 

In the last sound his harp had r.pcd. 



V. 

Upon a rock with lichens wild, 
lieside him Ellen sate and smiled, — 
Smiled she to see the stately drake 
Lead forth his Heet upon the lake, 
While her vexed spaniel, from the beach, 
Hay'd at the prize beyond his reach ? 
Yet tell me, then, the maid who knows, 
Why deepen'd on her cheek the rose ? 
Forgive, forgive, I'ldelity ! 
Perchance the maiden smiled lo sec 
Yon parting lingerer wave adieu, 
And stoj) and turn to wave anew ; 
And. lowly ladies, crc youi' ire 
Condemn llu- luToiiie of my l\re. 
Show me ihe fair would scorn lo spv. 
And pri/.f SLich conciuoi of hrr eye ! 



64 



llie Lady of the Lake. 



VI. 

While yet he loiter'd on the spot, 
It seem'd as Ellen mark'd him not ; 
But when he turn'd him to the glade, 
One courteous parting sign she made : 




■\ 



One courteous parting sign she made. 

And after, oft the knight would say, 
That not when prize of festal day 
Was dealt him by the brightest fair, 
Who e'er wore jewel in her hair, 
So highly did his bosom swell. 
As at that simple mute farewell. 



The Lady of the Lake. 



Now with a trusty mountain-guide, 

And his dark stag-hounds by his side, 

He parts — the maid unconscious still, 

Watch'd him wind slowly round the hill ; 

But when his stately form was hid, 

The guardian in her bosom chid — 

" Thy Malcolm ! vain and selfish maid ! " 

'T was thus upbraiding conscience said, — 

" Not so had Malcolm idly hung 

On the smooth phrase of southern tongue ; 

Not so had Malcolm strain'd his eye, 

Another step than thine to spy. 

Wake, Allan-Bane," aloud she cried. 

To the old Minstrel by her side, — 

" Arouse thee from thy moody dream ! 

I'll give thy harp heroic theme, 

And warm thee with a noble name ; 

Voiw forth the glory of the Gramme ! " 

Scarce from her lips the word had rush'd, 

When deep the conscious maiden blush'd : 

For of his c^lan, in hall and bower, 

^^)ung Malcolm (jraMne was held the llowcr. 

VII. 

The Minstrel waked his harp thi'ee times 

Arose the well-known niai'lial ehiines. 

And thrice their high hei-oii^ j^ride 

In melancholy inuiinni's died. 

" \'ainly thou bid's!. ( ) noble maid," 

Clasping his wilheicd hands, he said. 



66 The Lady of the Lake, 

" Vainly thou bid'st me wake the strain, 

Though all unwont to bid in vain. 

Alas ! than mine a mightier hand 

Has tuned my harp, my strings has spann'd ! 

1 touch the cords of joy, but low 

And mournful answer notes of woe ; 

And the proud march, which victors tread, 

Sinks in the wailing for the dead. 

O well for me, if mine alone 

That dirge's deep prophetic tone ! 

If, as my tuneful fathers said. 

This harp, which erst Saint Modan sway'd, 

Can thus its master's fate foretell. 

Then welcome be the minstrel's knell ! 

VIIT. 

" But ah ! dear lady, thus it sigh'd 

The eve thy sainted mother died ; 

And such the sounds which, while I strove 

To. wake a lay of war or love, 

•Came marring all the festal mirth, 

Appalling m"e who gave them birth, 

And, disobedient to my call, 

Wail'd loud through Bothwell's banner'd hall 

Ere Douglasses, to ruin driven. 

Were exiled from their native heaven. 

Oh ! if yet w^orse mishap and woe. 

My master's house must undergo, 

Or aught but weal to Ellen fair, 

Brood in these accents of despair. 



The Lady of the Lake. 



(^1 




Then shivered shall thy fka(;ments lie. 

No future bard, sad Harp I shall fling 
Triumph or rapture from thy striiii^-; 
One short, one final strain shall tlow, 
Fraught with unutterable woe, 
Then shiver'd shall thy fragments lie, 
Thy master cast him down and die ! " 



IX. 

Soothing she answer'd him. " Assuage. 
Mine honor'd friend, the fears of age ; 
All melodies to thee are known. 
That harp has rung, or pipe has blown. 
In Lowland vale or I Highland glen. 
From Tweed to Spey — what marvel, ilun, 
At times, unbidden notes should rise. 
Confusedly bound in memory's ties. 
Kntangiing as they rush along. 
'l"he war-march with \\w funeral son;^ " 
Small ground is now foi- boding fear; 
Obscure, but safe, we icst us here. 



68 



The Lady of the Lake. 



Aly sire, in native virtue great, 
Resigning- lordship, lands, and state, 
Not then to fortune more resign 'd, 
Than yonder oak might give the wind ; 
The graceful foliage storms may reave. 
The noble stem they cannot grieve. 
For me," — shestoop'd, and,~ looking round 
Pluck'd a blue hare-bell from the ground,- 
" For me, whose memory scarce conveys 
An image of more splendid days, 







A BLTE HAKE-BELL. 



This little flower that loves the lea, 

May well my simple emblem be ; 

It drinks heaven's due as blithe as rose 

That in the king's own garden grows ; 

And when I place it in my hair, 

Allan, a bard is bound to swear 

He ne'er saw coronet so fair." 

Then playfully the.chaplet wild 

She wreath'd in her dark locks, and smiled. 



The Lady of tnc Lake, 69 




Sill'. W ICI' A I Itl- I> IN IIIK 1>.\UK l.t»t KS 



70 The Lady of fJie Lake. 



X. 

Her smile, her speech, with winning sway, 

Wiled the old harper's mood away, 

With such a look as hermits throw. 

When angels stoop to soothe their woe, 

He gazed, till fond regret and pride 

Thrill'd to a tear, then thus replied : 

" Loveliest and best ! thou little know'st 

The rank, the honors, thou hast lost ! 

O might I live to see thee grace, 

In Scotland's court, thy birth-right place. 

To see my favorite's step advance. 

The lightest in the courtly dance, 

The cause of every gallant's sigh, 

And leading star of every eye, 

And theme of every minstrel's art, 

The Lady of the Bleeding Heart I " 

XL 

" Fair dreams are these, " the maiden cried. 
. (Light was her accent, yet she sighed ; ) 
" Yet is this mossy rock to me 
Worth splendid chair and canopy ; 
Nor would my footsteps spring more gay 
\\\ courtly dance than blithe strathspey, 
Xor half so pleased mine ear incline 
To royal minstrel's lay as thine. 
And then for suitors proud and high. 
To bend before my conquering eye, — - 



The Lady of the Lake. 7 r 

Thou, flattering- bard ! thyself wilt say, 
That grim Sir Roderick owns its sway. 
The Saxon scourge. Clan -Alpine's pride, 
The terror of Loch Lomond's side, 
Would, at my suit, thou know'st, delay 
A Lennox foray — for a day." 

XIL 

The ancient bard her glee repress'd : 

" 111 hast thou chosen theme for jest ! 

For who, through all this western wild. 

Named Black Sir Roderick e'er, and smiled ! 

In Holy-Rood a knight he slew ; 

I saw, when back the dirk he drew. 

Courtiers give place Before the stride 

Of the undaunted homicide ; 

And since, though outlaw'd, hath his hand, 

l^\ill sternly kept "his mountain land. 

Who else dare give — ah,! woe the day. 

That I such hated truth should say— 

The Douglas, like a stricken deer, 

Disowned by every noble peer, 

Even the rude refuge we have here ? 

Alas, this wild marauding Chief 

Alone might hazard oiu' relief, 

And now thy maiden charms expand. 

Looks for his guci'don in thy hand ; 

P^ill soon may dispensation sought. 

To back his suit fioni Rome be brought. 

Then, though an exile on the hill. 

Thv father, as the Don-las, si ill 



72 27ie Lady of the Lake. 

Be held in reverence and fear ; 
And though to Roderick thou'rt so dear, 
That thou mightst guide with silken thread, 
Slave of thy will, this chieftain dread ; 
Yet, O loved maid, thy mirth refrain ! 
Thy hand is on a lion's marie. "— 



XIII. 

" Minstrel, " the maid replied, and high 
Her father's soul glanced from her eye, 
" My debts to Roderick's house I know : 
All that a mother could bestov\', 
To Lady Margaret's care I owe. 
Since first an orphan in the wild 
She sorrow'd o'er her sister's child ; 
To her brave chieftain son, from ire 
Of Scotland's king who shrouds my sire. 
A deeper, holier debt is owed ; 
And, could I pay it with my blood, 
Allan ! Sir Roderick should command 
My blood, my life, — but not my hand. 
Rather will Ellen Douglas dwell 
A votaress in Maronnan's cell ; 
Rather through realms beyond the sea, 
Seeking the world's cold charity. 
Where ne'er was spoke a Scottish word, 
And ne'er the name of Douglas heard, 
An outcast pilgrim will she rove, 
Than wed the man she cannot love. 



I'/ie Lady of t/ic Lake. 73 



XIV. 

" Thou shakest, good friend, thy tresses gray — 

That pleading look, what can it say 

But what I own ? — I grant him brave, 

But wild as Bracklinn's thundering wave ; 

And generous — save vindictive mood, 

Or jealous transport, chafe his blood : 

I grant him true to friendly band, 

As his claymore is to his hand ; 

But O ! that very blade of steel 

More mercy for a foe would feel : 

I grant him liberal, to fling 

Among his clan the wealth they bring. 

When, back by lake and glen they w ind. 

And in the Lowland leave behind, 

Where once some pleasant hamlet stood, 

A mass of ashes slaked with blood. 

The hand that for my father fought, 

I honor, as his daughter ought ; 

But can 1 clasi) it reeking red, 

From peasants slaughter'd in their shed } 

No ! wildly while his virtues gleam. 

They make his passions darker seem. 

And flash along his spirit high, 

Like lightning o'er the midniL^ht sky. 

While yet a (^hild, and iMiiUht-n know. 

Instinctive taught, the frit-nd and foe. - 

I shudder'd at his brow of gloom. 

His shadowy plaid, and sable plume ! 



74 



The Lady of the Lake. 



A maiden grown, I iii couid bear 

His haughty mien and lordly air ; 

But, if thou join'st a suitor's claim. 

In serious mood, to Roderick's name, 

I thrill with anguish ! or, if e'er 

A Douglas knew the word, with fear. 

To change such odious theme were best, — 

What think'st thou of our stranger oaiest ^ 




A 51 ASS OF ASHES SLAKED WITH BLOOD. 



XV. 

** What think I of him } — woe the while 
That brought such wanderer to our isle ! 
Thy father's battle-brand, of yore 
For Tine-man forged by fairy lore. 



The Lady of the Lake. 75 

What time he leagued, no longer foes, 

His Border spears with Hotspur's bows, 

Did, self-unscabbarded, foreshow 

The footstep of a secret foe. 

If courtly spy hath harbor'd here, 

What may we for the Douglas fear ? 

What for this island, deem'd of old 

Clan-Alpine's last and surest hold ? 

If neither spy nor foe, I pray 

What yet may jealous Roderick say ? 

— Nay, wave not thy disdainful head. 

Bethink thee of the discord dread 

That kindled, when at Beltane game 

Thou ledst the dance with Malcolm Graeme ; 

Still, though thy sire the peace renew'd, 

Smoulders in Roderick's breast the feud ; 

Beware ! — But hark, what sounds are these ? 

My dull ears catch no faltering breeze. 

No weeping birch, nor aspens wake. 

Nor breath is dimpling in the lake. 

Still is the canna's hoary beard, 

Yet, by my minstrel faith, I heard — 

And hark again ! some pij^e of war 

Sends the bold pibroch from afar." 

XVI. 

l'\'ir up the k'ngllu'n'd lakr were spird 
i""()ur (larkt-ning spec^ks uj^on ihr tide. 
Thai, slow enlarging on the \ic\\, 
I''oiii- inanu'd and masted barges grew, 



76 The Lady of the Lake. 

And, bearing downwards from Glengylc, 
Steer'd full upon the lonely isle ; 
The point of Brianchoil they pass'd, 
And, to the windward as they cast. 
Against the sun they gave^to shine 
The bold Sir Roderick's banner'd Pine. 
Nearer and nearer as they bear, 
Spear, pikes, and axes flash in air. 
Now might you see the tartans brave, 
And plaids and plumage dance and wave : 
Now see the bonnets sink and rise, 
As his tough oar the rower plies ; 
See, flashing at each sturdy stroke. 
The wave ascending into smoke ; 
See the proud pipers on the bow. 
And mark the gaudy streamers flow 
From their loud chanters down, and sweep 
The furrow'd bosom of the deep, 
As, rushing through the lake amain, 
They plied the ancient Highland strain. 

XVII. 

Ever, as on they bore, more loud 

And louder rung the pibroch proud. 

At first the sound, by distance tame, 

Mellow'd along the waters came. 

And, lingering long by cape and bay 

Wail'd every harsher note away ; 

Then, bursting bolder on the ear, 

The clan's shrill Gathering they could hear; 



17ie Lady of the Lake. 



77 



Those thrilling' sounds, that call the might 
Of old Clan-Alpine to the tight. 
Thick beat the rapid notes^ as when 
The mustering hundreds shake the glen, 




Si'-.i-; Till': I'Koin iin-.Ns on ihk iu)\v. 



.\ii(l hurrying al ihc signal dread, 
'\'\w baltrr'd carlh ixiurns lluir ircail, 
Then pre hide \v^\\. ol liwliii" lone. 
I'Aprcss'd their UKrry in.uihing on. 



jS llie Lady of the Lake. 

Ere peal of closing battle rose, 
With mingled outcry, shrieks, and blows ; 
A mimic din of stroke and ward. 
As broadsword upon target jarr'd ; 
And groaning pause, ere yet again. 
Condensed, the battle yell'd amain ; 
The rapid charge, the rallying shout, 
Retreat borne headlong into rout, 
And bursts of triumph, to declare 
Clan-Alpine's conquest— all were there. 
Nor ended thus the strain ; but slow 
Sunk in a moan prolong'd and low, 
And changed the conquering clarion swell, 
For wild lament o'er those that fell. 

XVIII. 

The war-pipes ceased ; but lake and hill 
Were busy with their echoes still ; 
And when they slept, a vocal strain 
Bade their hoarse chorus wake again. 
While loud a hundred clansmen raise 
Their voices in their Chieftain's praise. 
Each boatman, bendmg to his oar. 
With measured sweep the burden bore. 
In such wild cadence, as the breeze 
Makes through December's leafless trees. 
The chorus tirst could Allan know, 
" Roderick Vich Alpine, ho ! iro ! " 
And near, and nearer as they row'd, 
Distinct the martial ditty flow'd, 



The Lady of the Lake. 79 

XIX. 

BOAT SONG. 

Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances I 

Honor'd and bless'd be the ever-green Pine I 
Long may the tree, in his banner that glances, 
Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line ! 

Heaven send it happy dew. 

Earth lend it sap anew, 
Gayly to bourgeon, and broadly to grow, 

While every Highland glen 

Send our shout back agen, 
*' Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! " 

Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain, 

Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade ; 
When the whirlwind has stripp'd every leaf on 
the mountain. 
The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade. 
Moor'd in the rifted rock, 
Proof to the tempest's shock. 
Firmer he roots him the ruder it blows ; 
Menteith and Breadalbanc, then. 
Echo his praise agaiti, 
" Roderigh V'ich Al[)ine dlui. ho ! ieroe ! " 

XX. 

Proiidlv our pibroch has thrill'd in Cilru |-riiin. 
And Pi.-miiaehar's j-roaus lo our slogan 
replied ; 



8o The Lady of the Lake. 

Glen Lus and Ross-dhu, they are smoking in 
ruin, 
And the best of Loch-Lomond lie dead on 
her side. 
Widow and Saxon maid 
Long shall lament our raid, 
Think of Clan-Alpine with fear and with 
woe ; 
Lennox and Leven-glen 
Shake when they hear again, 
**Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! " 

Row, vassals, row for the pride of the High- 
lands 
Stretch to your oars, for the ever-green Pine ! 
O I that the rose-bud that graces yon islands, 
Were wreathed in a garland around him to 
twine. 
O, that some seedling gem. 
Worthy such noble stem. 
Honor 'd and blessed in their sh-adow might 
grow ! 
Loud should Clan-Alpine then 
Ring from her deepest glen, 
" Roderigh \Mch Alpine dhu, ho I ieroe I " 

XXI. 

W^ith all her joyful female band, 
Had Lady Margaret sought the strand. 
Loose on the breeze their tresses flew. 
And high their snowy arms they threw, 



The Lady of the Lake. 



As echoing back with shrill acclaim, 

And chorus wild, the Chieftain's name ; 

While, prompt to please, with mother's art, 

The darling passion of his heart, 

The Dame called Ellen to the strand 

To greet her kinsman ere he land : 

" Come, loiterer, come ! a Douglas thou, 

And shun to wreathe a victor's brow ? " — 

Reluctantly and slow, the maid 

The unwelcome summoning obey'd. 

And, when a distant bugle rung. 

In the mid-path aside she sprung : — 

** List, Allan-Bane ! From mainland cast, 

I hear my father's signal blast, 

Be ours," she cried, " the skiff to guide, 

And waft him from the mountain-side." 

Then, like a sunbeam, swift and bright. 

She darted to her shallop light. 

And, eagerly while Roderick scann'd, 

For her dear form, his mother's band, 

The islet far behind her lay. 

And she had landed in the bay. 



XXII. 

Some feelings are to mortals given. 

With less of earth in them than heaven : 

And if there be a human tear 

From passion^ dross retined and clear, 

A tear so liini)id and so meek, 

it would not stain an au'-cl's clu'ck. 



Sz The LaJy of the Lake. 




She DAKTIiD TO HKK SHAF.LOF LIGH 



The Lady of the Lake. Z^^ 

'T is that which pious fathers shed 
Upon a'duteous daughter's head ! 
And as the Douglas to his breast 
His darling Ellen closely press'd, 
Such holy drops her tresses steep'd, 
Though 't was an hero's eye thai weep'd. 
Nor while on Ellen's faltering tongue 
Her filial welcomes crowded hung, 
Mark'd she, that fear (affection's proof; 
Still held a graceful youth aloof ; 
No ! not till Douglas named his name. 
Although the youth was Malcolm (irctme. 

XXIII. 

Allan, with wistful look the while, 
Mark'd Roderick landing on the isle •, 
His master piteously he eyed. 
Then gazed upon the Chieftain's j)ride, 
Then dash'd, with hasty hand, away 
From his dimm'd eye the gathering spra\- ; 
And Douglas, as his hand he laid 
On Malcolm's shoulder, kindly said, 
"Canst thou, young friend, no meaning spv 
In my poor follower's glistening eye ? 
I'll tell thee : he recalls the day. 
When in my i:)raise he led the lav 
O'er the arch'd gate of liothwell proud. 
While many a minstrel answer'd loud. 
When I'en^y's Norman pennon won 
In hloodv lie Id before me shone. 



S4 



The Lady of the Lake, 



And twice ten knights, the least a name 
As mighty as yon Chief may claim, 
Gracing my pomp, behind me came. 




Castle of the DoroLAS. 



Yet trust me, Malcolm, not so proud 
Was I of all that marshall'd crowd, 
Though the waned crescent own'd my might, 
And in my train troop'd lord and knight. 



The Lady of the Lake. 85 

Though Blantyre hymn'd her holiest lays 
And Bothwell's bards flung back my praise 
As when this old man's silent tear, 
And this poor maid's affection dear, 
A welcome give more kind and true. 
Than aught my better fortunes knew. 
Forgive, my friend, a father's boast, 
O ! it out-beggars all I lost ! " 

XXIV. 

Delightful praise ! — Like summer rose, 
That brighter in the dew-drop glows. 
The bashful maiden's cheek appear 'd, 
For Douglas spoke, and Malcolm heard. 
The flush of shame-faced joy to hide, 
The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide. 
The loved caresses of the maid 
The dogs with crouch and whimper paid; 
And, at her whistle, on her hand 
The falcon took his favorite stand, 
Closed his dark wing, relaxYl his eye, 
Nor, though unhooded, sought to fly. 
And, trust, while in such guise she stood, 
Like fabled Goddess of the Wood, 
That if a father's partial thought 
O'erwcigh'd Ium" worth and l)c\-iiiiv aiii^ht. 
Well miglU the lowr's judgmciit fail 
To balancH' w iih a justcr sc\-ilc ; 
For Vv'ilh each sf(MTt glance he stole, 
The fond ciil IiM^i.'isi sent his soul. 



86 27ie Lady of the Lake. 



XXV. 

Of stature tall, and slender frame, 
But firmly knit, was Malcolm Graeme. 
The belted plaid and tartan hose 
Did ne'er more graceful limbs disclose ; 
His flaxen hair of sunny hue, 
Curl'd closely round his bonnet blue. 
Train'd to the chase, his eagle eye 
The ptarmigan in snow could spy : 
Each pass, by mountain, lake, and heath. 
He knew, through Lennox and Menteith : 
Vain was the bound of dark-brown doe. 
When Malcolm bent his sounding bow, 
And scarce that doe, though wing'd with fear, 
Outstripp'd in speed the mountaineer : 
Right up Ben Lomond could he press, 
.And not a sob his toil confess. 
His form accorded with a minJ 
Lively and ardent, frank and kind ; 
A blither heart till Ellen came, 
Did never love or sorrow tame ; 
It danced as lightsome in his breast. 
As play'd the feather on his crest. 
Yet friends who nearest knew the youth. 
His scorn of wrong, his zeal for truth, 
And bards, who saw his features bold 
When kindled by the tales of old, 
Said, were that youth to manhood grown, 
Not lono^ should Roderick Dhu's renown 



The Lady of the Lake. 



87 




MaI.c dim ( I U' 1 \||.. 



SS The Lady of the Lake, 

Be foremos: voiced by n:oui::a:ii fame, 
But quail to that of Malcolm Graeme. 

XXVI. 

Now back the)' wend their water}' way. 
And, ** O my sire ! " did Ellen sa}^ 
*• Wh}' urge thy chase so far astray ? 
And wh\' so late return 'd ? And why " — 
The rest was in her speaking eye. 
** My child, the chase I follow far, 
*T is mimicr\^ of noble war ; 
And with that gallant pastime reft 
Were all of Douglas I have left. 
I met young Malcolm as I stray 'd. 
Far eastward, in Glenfinlas' shade. 
Nor stra\''d I safe ; for, all around. 
Hunters and horsemen scour 'd the ground. 
This youth, though still a rojal ward, 
Risk'd Hfe and land to be my guard. 
And through the passes of the wood 
Guided my steps, not unpursued ; 
And Roderick shall his welcome make. 
Despite old spleen, for Douglas' sake. 
Then must he seek Strath-Endrick glen. 
Nor peril aught for me agen." 

XXVII. 

Sir Roderick, who to meet them came. 
Redden d at s\<A\\. of Malcolm Graeme, 



The Lady of the Lake. 89 

Yet, not in action, word, or e3'e, 
Fail'd aught in hospitality. 
In talk and sport they whiled away 
The morning of that summer day ; 
But at high-noon a courier light 
Held secret parley with the knight, 
Whose moody aspect soon declared, 
That evil were the news he heard. 
Deep thought seem'd toiling in his head ; 
Yet was the evening banquet made. 
Ere he assembled round the flame. 
His mother, Douglas, and the Gramme, 
And E^Uen, too ; then cast around 
His eyes, then fixed them on the ground. 
As studying phrase that might avail 
Best to convey unpleasant tale. 
Long wMth his dagger's hilt he play'd. 
Then raised his haughty brow, and said : 

xxvni. 

** Short be my speech ; — nor time affords. 
Nor my plain temper, glozing words. 
Kinsman and father, — if such name 
Douglas vouchsafe to Roderick's claim ; 
Mine honor'd mother ; — IMlcn why, 
My cousin, turn away thine eye } — 
And (jra'me ; in whom I hope to know- 
Full soon a noble friend or foe, 
When a^c shall gixc tlu'c lli\- coinniaiul. 
And leading in thy nali\c land,— 



90 27ie Lady of the Lake. 

List all I — ^The King's vindictive pride 

Boasts to have tamed the border side. 

Where chiefs, with hound and hawk who came, 

To share their monarch's sylvan game. 

Themselves in bloody toils were snared ; 

And when the banquet they prepared, 

And wide their loyal portals flung, 

O'er their own gateway strugghng hung. 

Loud cries their blood from Meggat's mead, 

From Yarrow braes, and banks of Tweed, 

Where the lone streams of Ettrick glide. 

And from the silver Teviot's side ; 

The dales, where martial clans did ride, 

Are now one sheep-walk, waste and wide. 

This tyrant of the Scottish throne, 

So faithless, and so ruthless known, 

Now hither comes ; his end the same, 

The same pretext of sylvan game. 

What grace for Highland Chiefs, judge ye 

By fate of Border chivalry. 

Yet more ; amid Glenfinlas green, 

Douglas, thy stately form was seen. 

This by espial sure I know ; 

Your counsel in the strei^ht I show." 



XXIX. 

Ellen and Margaret fearfully 
Sought comfort in each other's eye. 
Then turn'd their ghastly look, each one, 
This to her sire, that to her son. 



The Lady of the Lake. 9 1 

The hasty color went and came 

In the bold cheek of Malcolm Gramme ; 

But from his glance it well appear'd, 

'T was but for Ellen that he fear'd ; 

While, sorrowful, but undismay'd, 

The Douglas thus his counsel said : 

" Brave Roderick, though the tempest roar, 

It may but thunder and pass o'er ; 

Nor will I here remain an hour, 

To draw the lightning on thy bower ; 

For well thou know'st, at this gray head 

The royal bolt were fiercest sped. 

For thee, who, at thy King's command, 

Canst aid him with a gallant band. 

Submission, homage, humbled pride, 

Shall turn the Monarch's wrath aside. 

Poor remnants of the Bleeding Heart, 

Ellen and I will seek, apart, 

The refuge of some forest cell, 

There, like the hunted quarry, dwell, 

Till on the mountain and the moor, 

Tlic stern pursuit be pass'd and o'er." 

XXX. 

" No, by mine honor," Roderick said. 

" So help me. Heaven, and my good bl.ule ! 

No, never ! IMasted be yon Bine. 

My fathers" ancienl ci\-st and mine. 

If from its shade in danger j)an 

The lineage of the Bleeding Ik-.iil I 



21ie Lady of the Lake. 



Hear my blunt speech ; grant me this maid 
To wife, thy counsel to mine aid ; 
To Douglas leagued with Roderick Dhu, 
Will friends and allies flock enow ; 
Like cause of doubt, distrust, and grief, 
Will bind to us each Western Chief. 
When the loud pipes my bridal tell, 
The Links of Forth shall hear the knell, 
The guards shall start in Stirling's porch ; 
And, when I light the nuptial torch, 
A thousand villages in flames, 
Shall scare the slumbers of King James ! 
— Nay, Ellen, blench not thus away. 
And, mother, cease these signs, I pray ; 
I meant not all my heat might say. 
Small need of inroad, or of fight. 
When the sage Douglas may unite 
Each mountain clan in friendly band. 
To guard the passes of their land. 
Till the foil'd king from pathless glen, 
Shall bootless turn him home agen." 

XXXL 

There are who have at midnight hour. 
In slumber scaled a dizzy tower. 
And on the verge that beetled o'er 
The ocean tide's incessant roar, 
Dream'd calmly out their dangerous dream. 
Till waken'd by the morning beam ; 
When, dazzled by the eastern glow, 
Such startler cast his glance below, 



The Lady of the Lake. 93 

And saw unmeasured depth around, 

And heard unintermitted sound, 

And thought the battled fence so frail 

It waved like cobweb in the gale ; — 

Amid his senses' giddy wheel, 

Did he not desperate impulse feel, 

Headlong to plunge himself below, 

And meet the worst his fears foreshow ? — 

Thus, Ellen, dizzy and astound, 

As sudden ruin yawned around. 

By crossing terrors wildly toss'd, 

Still for the Douglas fearing most, 

Could scarce the desperate thought withstand, 

To buy his safety with her hand. 

XXXII. 

Such purpose dread could Malcolm spy 
In Ellen's quivering lip and eye, 
And eager rose to speak — but ere 
His tongue could hurry forth his fear, 
Had Douglas mark'd the hectic strife. 
Where death seem'd combating with life ; 
P^or to her cheek, in feverish flood, 
One instant rush'd the throbbing blood, 
Then ebbing back, with sudden sway, 
Left its domain as wan as clay. 
" Roderick, enough ! enough ! " he cried, 
•* My daughter cannot be thy bride ; 
Not that the blush to wooer dear, 
Nor paleness thai of maiden fear. 



94 The Lady of the Lake. 

It may not be — forgive her, Chief, 
Nor hazard aught for our relief. 
Against his sovereign, Douglas ne'er 
Will level a rebellious spear. 
'T was I that taught his youthful hand 
To rein a steed and wield a brand ; 
I see him yet, the princely boy ! 
Not Ellen more my pride and joy ; 
I love him still, despite my wrongs. 
By hasty wrath, and slanderous tongues. 
O seek the grace you well may find. 
Without a cause to mine combined." 

XXXIII. 

Twice through the hall the Chieftain strode ; 
The waving of his tartans broad, 
And darken'd brow, where wounded pride 
With ire and disappointment vied, 
Seem'd, by the torch's gloomy light, 
Like the ill demon of the night. 
Stooping his pinions' shadowy sway 
Upon the nighted pilgrim's way ; 
But, unrequited Love ! thy dart 
Plunged deepest its envenom'd smart. 
And Roderick, with thine anguish stung. 
At length the hand of Douglas wrung, 
While eyes, that mock'd at tears before, 
With bitter drops were running o'er. 
The death-pangs of long-cherish'd hope 
Scarce in that ample breast had scope, 



77ie Lady of the Lake. 



95 



But, struggling- with his spirit proud, 
Convulsive heaved its checker'd shroud. 
While every sob — so mute were all — 
Was heard distinctly through the hall. 




% 






mii 



^%». 



The son's dtspair, the mother's look, 
ill might the gentle Mllen brook ; 



96 



The Lady of the Lake, 



She rose, and to her side there came, 
To aid her parting steps, the Grseme. 




To AID HER PARTING STEPS. 



XXXIV. 

Then Roderick from the Douglas broke — 
As flashes flame through sable smoke, 
Kindling its wreaths, long, dark, and low 
To one broad blaze of ruddy glow. 



27ie Lady of the Lake. 97 

So the deep anguish of despair 

Burst, in fierce jealousy, to air. 

With stalwart grasp his hand he laid 

On Malcolm's breast and belted plaid ; 

** Back, beardless boy ! " he sternly said, 

" Back, minion ! hold'st thou thus at naught 

The lesson I so lately taught ? 

This roof, the Douglas, and that maid, 

Thank thou for punishment delay 'd." 

Eager as greyhound on his game, 

Fiercely with Roderick grappled Gramme. 

" Perish my name, if aught afford 

Its Chieftain safety save his sword ! " 

Thus as they strove, their desperate hand 

Griped to the dagger or the brand. 

And death had been — but Douglas rose, 

And thrust between the struggling foes 

His giant strength : — '* Chieftains, forego ! 

I hold the first who strikes, my foe. 

Madmen, forbear your frantic jar ! 

What ! is the Douglas fall'n so far. 

His daughter's hand is deem'd the spoil 

Of such dishonorable broil ! " 

Sullen and slowly, they unclasp, 

As struck with shame, their desperate grasp. 

And each, upon his rival glared, 

With foot advanced and blade half bared. 

XXXV. 

Ere yet tlu" brands aloft were Hung. 
Margaret oit Kodci-ic'k's inaiillc luiiig. 



98 



The Lady of the Lake. 



.^y 



And Malcolm heard his Ellen's scream, 
As falter'd through terrific dream. 
Then Roderick plunged in sheath his sword, 
And veil'd his wrath in scornful word. 




With foot advancc-u and blai^e h.-alk baked. 

" Rest safe till morning ; pity 't were 
Such cheek should feel the midnight air! 
Then mayest thou to James Stewart tell 
Roderick will keep the lake and fell, 



The Lady of the Lake. 99 

Nor lackey, with his freeborn clan, 
The pageant pomp of earthly man. 
More would he of Clan-Alpine know, 
Thou canst our strength and passes show. 
Malise, what ho ! " — his henchman came ; 
** Give our safe-conduct to the Graeme." 
Young Malcolm answer'd, calm and bold, 
" Fear nothing for thy favorite hold ; 
The spot an angel deigned to grace 
Is bless'd, though robbers haunt the place ; 
Thy churlish courtesy for those 
Reserve, who fear to be thy foes. 
As safe to me the mountain way 
At midnight as in blaze of day, 
Though wMth his boldest at his back 
Even Roderick Dhu beset the track. 
Brave Douglas, — lovely Ellen, — nay. 
Naught here of parting will I say. 
Earth does not hold a lonesome glen, 
So secret, but w^e meet agen. 
Chieftain I we too shall hnd an hour." 
He said, and left the sylvan bower. 

XXXVI. 

Old Allan follow'd to the strand, 
(Such was the Douglas's command,) 
And anxious told, how, on the morn. 
'II1C stern Sir Roderick deep had swoiii. 
The Fiery Cross should i ircU- o\i- 
Dale, glen, and valley, down, and moor. 



The Lady of the Lake, 



Much were the peril to the Grseme, 

From those who to the signal came ; 

Far up the lake 't were safest land. 

Himself would row him to the strand, 

He gave his counsel to the wind, 

While Malcolm did, unheeding, bind. 

Round dirk and pouch and broadsword roll'd, 

His ample plaid in tighten'd fold, 

And stripp'd his limbs to such array, 

As best might suit the waterv way, — 



XXXVII. 

Then spoke abrupt : " Farewell to thee, 

Pattern of old fidelity I " 

The Minstrel's hand he kindly press'd.- 

" O ! could I point a place of rest I 

My sovereign holds in ward my land, 

My uncle leads my vassal band ; 

To tame his foes, his friends to aid, 

Poor Malcolm has but heart and blade. 

Yet, if there be one faithful Gr^me, 

Who loves the Chieftain of his name, 

Not long shall honored Douglas dwell, 

Like hunted stag in mountain cell ; 

Nor, ere yon pride-swoll'n robber dare,- 

I may not give the rest to air ! 

Tell Roderick Dhu, I owed him naught, 

Not the poor service of a boat, 

To waft me to yon mountain-side." 

Then plunged he in the flashing tide. 



'The Lady of the Lake, 



Bold o'er the flood his head he bore, 
And stoutly steer'd him from the shore ; 
And Allan strain'd his anxious eye, 
Far 'mid the lake his form to spy. 




L(.i 



The Lady of the Lake. 



Darkening across each puny wave, 
To which the moon her silver gave, 
Fast as the cormorant could skim, 
The swimmer plied each active limb ; 
Then landing in the moonlight dell, 
Loud shouted of his weal to tell. 
The minstrel heard the far halloo. 
And joyful from the shore withdrew. 



71ie Lady of the Lake, 103 



CANTO THIRD. 

The Gathering. 

I. 

Time rolls his ceaseless course. The race of 
yore, 
Who danced our infancy upon their knee, 
And told our marvelling boyhood legends 
store, 
Of their strange ventures happ'd by land or 
sea. 
How are they blotted from the things that be I 
How few, all weak and wither'd of their 
force. 
Wait on the verge of dark eternity, 

Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning 
hoarse, 
To sweep them from our sight ! Time rolls 

his ceaseless course. 
Yet live there still who can remember well. 

How, when a mountain chief his biigK^ blew. 
Both field and forest, dingle. elilT, and dell. 

And solitary hcalh. the signal knew. 
And far^t the faithful elan ai-ouiul him dn^w. 
What lime the waiiung note w.is keenly 
woimd. 



I04 The Lady of the Lake, 









m 



^ 
^^v 




-^: 



*-ii .-. 



L \ 



f\ 




The UrAlHEklNG. 



The Lady of the Lake, 



What time aloft their kindred banner flew, 
While clamorous war-pipes yell'd the gather- 
ing sound, 
And while the Fiery Cross glanced, like a 
meteor, round. 



II. 

The summer dawn's reflected hue 

To purple changed Loch Katrine blue ; 

Mildly and soft the western breeze 

Just kiss'd the Lake, just stirr'd the trees, 

And the pleased lake, like maiden coy, 

Trembled but dimpled not for joy ; 

The mountain-shadows on her breast 

Were neither broken nor at rest ; 

In bright uncertainty they lie, 

Like future joys to Fancy's eye. 

The water-lily to the light 

Her chalice rear'd of silver bright , 

The doe awoke, and to the lawn, 

Begemm'd with dewdrops, led her fawn ; 

The gray mist left the mountain side, 

The torrent show'd its glistening pride ; 

Invisible in flecked sky, 

The lark sent down her revelry ; 

The blackbird and the speckled thrush 

(lood-morrow gave from brake and bush 

In answer coo'd the cushat dove 

Her iiolt's of i)ea(X\ antl rest, aiul love. 



io6 T/u: fjidy uj l/w f.ake. 



No thought of peace, no thouj^ht of rest. 
Assuaged the storm in Roderick's breast. 
With sheathed broadsword in his hand. 
Abrupt he paced the islet strand. 
And eyed the risin^^ sun, and laid 
His hand on his impatient blade, 
Ikrneath a rock, his vassals' care 
Was prompt the ritual to prepare, 
With deep and deathful meaning fraught ; 
F*or such Antiquity had taught 
Was preface meet, ere yet abroad 
The Cross of Fire should take its road. 
The shrinking band stood oft aghast 
At the impatient glance he cast \— 
Such glance the mountain eagle threw, 
As, from the cliffs of Benvenue, 
She spread her dark sails on the wind. 
And, high in middle heaven, reclined. 
With her broad shadow on the lake. 
Silenced the warblers of the brake. 

IV. 

A heap of wither'd boughs w;is piled 
Of juniper and rowan wild. 
Mingled with shivers from the oak. 
Kent by the lightning's recent stroke. 
Brian, the Hermit, by it stood. 
Barefooted, in his frock and hood. 



The Lady of the Lake. 



107 



His grisled beard and matted hair 
Obscured a visage of despair ; 
His naked arms and legs seam'd o'er, 
The scars of frantic penance bore. 
That monk, of savage form and face. 
The impending danger of his race 
Had drawn from deepest solitude, 
Far in Benharrovv's bosom rude. 
Not his the mien of Christian priest, 
But Druid's, from the grave released. 
Whose harden'd heart 

and eye might brook 
On human sacrifice to 

look ; 
And much, 't was said, 

of heathen lore 
Mix'd in the charms he 

mutter'd o'er. 
The hallow'd creed 

gave only worse 
And deadlier empha- 




sis of curse ; 



BuiAN, THK Hkkmh. 



No peasant sought 
that hermit's prayer, 
His cave the pilgrim shunn'd with care, 
The eager huntsman knew his bound, 
And in mid chase call'd off his hound ; 
Or if, in lonely glen or strath. 
The desert-dweller met his path, 
lie pray'd and sign'd the cross brlwccn, 
While terror took devotion's niieii. 



loS 



The Lady of the Lake. 



Of Brian's birth strange tales were told. 
His mother watch'd a midnight fold, 
Built deep within a dreary glen, 
Where scatter 'd lay the bones of men, 
In some forgotten battle slain, 
And bleach'd bv driftinor- wind and rain. 




His mother watch'd a midnight fold. 



It might have tamed a warrior's heart, 
To view such mocker}' of his art I 
The knot-grass fetter'd there the hand, 
Which once could burst an iron band ; 



The Lady of the Lake. 109 

Beneath the broad and ample bone, 

That buckler'd heart to fear unknown, 

A feeble and a timorous guest, 

The lield-fare framed her lonely nest ; 

There the slow blind-w^orm left his slime 

On the fleet limbs that mock'd at time ; 

And there, too, lay the leader's skull, 

Still wTeathed with chaplet, flushed and full. 

For heath-bell with her purple bloom. 

Supplied the bonnet and the plume. 

All night, in this sad glen, the maid 

Sate, shrouded in her mantle's shade : 

— She said, no shepherd sought her side. 

No hunter's hand her snood untied, 

Yet ne'er again to braid her hair 

The virgin snood did Alice wear ; 

Gone was her maiden glee and sport. 

Her maiden girdle all too short, 

Nor sought she, from that fatal night. 

Or holy church or blessed rite. 

But lock'd her secret in her breast, 

And died in travail, unconfess'd. 



VI. 

Alone among his young compeers, 
Was Brian from his infant years ; 
A moody and heart-broken boy. 
Estranged from sympathy and joy, 
Bearing each taunt which careless tongue 
On his mysterious lineage tlung. 



no llie Lady of the Lake, 

Whole nights he spent by moonlight pale, 
To wood and stream his hap to wail, 
Till, frantic, he as truth received 
What of his birth the crowd believed, 
And sought, in mist and meteor fire, 
To meet and know his Phantom Sire ! 
In vain, to soothe his wayward fate. 
The cloister oped her pitying gate ; 
In vain, the learning of the age 
Unclasp'd the sable-letter'd page : 
Even in its treasures he could find 
Food for the fever of his mind. 
Eager he read whatever tells 
Of magic, cabala, and spells. 
And every dark pursuit allied 
To curious and presumptuous pride ; 
Till with fired brain and nerves o'erstrung. 
And heart with mystic horrors rung, 
Desperate he sought Benharrow's den, 
And hid him from the haunts of men. 

VII. 

The desert gave him visions wild, 
Such as might suit the spectre's child. 
Wliere with black cliffs the torrents toil. 
He watch'd the wheeling eddies boil, 
Till, from their foam, his dazzled eyes 
Beheld the River Demon rise ; 
The mountain mist took form and limb. 
Of noontide hag, or goblin grim ; 



T/ic Lady of t/ie Lake 



The midnight wind came wild and dread, 
Swell'd with the voices of the dead ; 
Far on the future battle-heath 
His eve beheld the ranks of death : 




Kackk 



in-. Ki-;.\i) wiiA I i:vi:i«: iKi.i.s <>k ^^.\<;n■, c auai. a, and si-ki.ls, 



Thus llu- loiu" Scc-i', from inaiikiiul huiTd. 
Shaped loiih a (hscinbochrd woiKL 



112 TJu Lady of the Lake. 

One lingering sympatiiy of mind 

Still bound him to the mortal kind ; 

The only parent he could claim 

Of ancient Alpine's lineage came. 

Late had he heard, in prophet's dream. 

The fatal Ben-Shie's boding scream ; 

Sounds, too, had come in midnight blast. 

Of charging steeds, careering fast 

Along Benharrow's shingly side. 

Where mortal horseman neer might ride ; 

The thunderbolt had split the pine, — 

All augur 'd ill to Alpines line. 

He girt his loins, and came to show 

The signals of impending woe. 

And now stood prompt to bless or ban. 

As bade the Chieftain of his clan. 



VIII. 

'T was all prepar d ; — and from the rock, 
A goat, the patriarch of the flock. 
Before the kindling pile was laid. 
And pierced by Roderick's ready blade. 
Patient the sickening \ictim eyed 
The life-blood ebb in crimson tide, 
Down his clogg'd beard and shagg}' limb. 
Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim. 
The grisly priest, with murmuring prayer, 
A slender crosslet form'd with care, 
A cubit's length in measure due ; 
The shaft and limbs were rods of vew, 



The Lady of the Lake. 



113 



Whose parents in Inch-Cailliach wave 
Their shadows o'er Clan-Alpine's grave, 
And answering Lomond's breezes deep, 
Soothe many a chieftain's endless sleep. 
The Cross, thus form'd, he held on high, 
With wasted hand, and haggard eye. 
And strange and mingled feelings woke, 
While his anathema he spoke. 

IX. 

" Woe to the clansman, who shall view 

This symbol of sepul- 
chral yew, 

Forgetful that its 
branches grew 

Where weep the 
heavens their ho- 
liest dew 
On Alpine's dwel- 
ling low ! 

Deserter of his Chief- 
tain's trust. 

He ne'er shall niiu^lr 
with their dust. 

lUU. from his sires and 
kindred thrust. 

Eac^h clansman's e.\- 
(HM'ation just 
Shall (loom him 
wrath and woe." 




Tllh I urN'DKK'hOL'l 



114 The Lady of the Lake 




The Cross, thus fokm'd, he held un high, with wasted haxmj, and 
haggard eve. 



The Lady of the Lake, 115 

He paused ; — the word the vassals took, 
With forward step and fiery look, 
On high their naked brands they shook, 
Their clattering targets wildly strook ; • 

And first in murmur low, 
Then, like the billow in his course, 
That far to seaward finds his source, 
And flings to shore his muster'd force, 
Burst, with loud roar, their answer hoarse, 

" Woe to the traitor, woe ! " 
Ben-an's gray scalp the accents knew, 
The joyous wolf from covert drew. 
The exulting eagle scream'd afar, — 
They knew the voice of Alpine's war. 

X. 

The shout was hush'd on lake and fell. 
The monk resumed his mutter 'd spell : 
Dismal and low its accents came. 
The while he scathed the Cross with flame ; 
And the few words that reach'd the air, 
Although the holiest name was there. 
Had more of blasphemy than prayer. 
But when he shook above the crowd 
Its kindled points, he spoke aloud : — 
" Woe to the wretch who fails to rear 
At this dread sign the ready sjicar ! 
F^or, as the flames this symbol sear, 
His home, the refuge of his fear. 
A kindred fate shall know ; 



ii6 The Lady of the Lake, 

Far o'er its roof the volumed flame 
Clan-Alpine's vengeance shall proclaim, 
While maids and matrons on his name 
Shall call down wretchedness and shame, 

And infamy and woe." 
Then rose the cry of females, shrill 
As goss-hawk's whistle on the hill, 
Denouncing misery and ill, 
Mingled with childhood's babbling trill 

Of curses stammer'd slow ; 
Answering, with imprecation dread, 
" Sunk be his home in embers red ! 
And cursed be the meanest shed 
That e'er shall hide the houseless head, 
We doom to want and woe ! " 
A sharp and shrieking echo gave, 
Coir-Uriskin, thy goblin cave ! 
And the gray pass where birches wave. 

On Beala-nam-bo. 

XI. 

Then deeper paused the priest anew, 
And hard his laboring breath he drew. 
While, with set teeth and clenched hand, 
And eyes that glow'd like fiery brand, 
He meditated curse more dread, 
And deadlier, on the clansman's head, 
Who, summon'd to his Chieftain's aid, 
The signal saw and disobey'd. 
The crosslet's points of sparkling wood, 
He quench'd among the bubbling blood, 



The Lady of the Lake, 



And, as again the sign he rear'd, 
Hollow and hoarse his voice was heard : 
" When flits this Cross from man to man, 
Vich-Alpine's summons to his clan, 
Burst be the ear that fails to heed ! 
Palsied the foot that shuns to speed ! 
May ravens tear the careless eyes, 
Wolves make the coward heart their prize ! 
As sinks that blood-stream in the earth, 
So may his heart's-blood drench his hearth ! 
As dies in hissing gore the spark. 
Quench thou his light. Destruction dark ! 
And be the grace to him denied, 
Bought by this sign to all beside ! " 
He ceased ; no echo gave agen 
The murmur of the deep Amen. 



'T.T'^-r^sHSSssaa^.^^ 




•g>x^ 



XII. 

Then l\()(1('ri(^k, witli impatient look, 
l''ro!H r)i-iairs hand tlir s\inl)ol took ; 



iiS The Lady of the Lake. 

" Speed, Malise, speed I " he said, and gave 
The crosslet to his henchman brave. 
" The muster-place be Lanrick mead — 
Instant the time — speed, Malise, speed ! ' 
Like heath-bird, when the hawks pursue, 
A barge across Loch Katrine flew ; 
High stood the henchman on the prow ; 
So rapidly the barge-men row. 
The bubbles, where they launch 'd the boat. 
Were all unbroken and afloat, 
Dancing in foam and ripple still, 
When it had near'd the mainland hill ; 
And from the silver beach's side 
Still was the prow three fathom wide. 
When lightly bounded to the land 
This messenger of blood and brand. 

XIIL 

Speed, Malise. speed ! the dun deer's hide 
On fleeter foot was never tied. 
Speed, Malise. speed ! such cause of haste 
Thine active sinews never braced. 
Bend 'gainst the steepy hill thy breast. 
Burst down like torrent from its crest ; 
With short and springing footstep pass 
The trembling bog and false morass ; 
Across the brook like roebuck bound, 
And thread the brake like questing hound ; 
The crag is high, the scaur is deep, 
Yet shrink not from the desperate leap : 



The Lady of the Lake. i r 9 




Wm-N i.ic.ini.Y iioi'NDi'.n in iiii- i \m> nils mkssknc.kk or ii|(M)1) ani> i»k\nh 



The Lady of the Lake, 



Parch "d are thy burning lips and brow, 

Yet by the fountain pause not now ; 

Herald of battle, fate, and fear, 

Stretch onward in thy fleet career ! 

The wounded hind thou track'st not now, 

Pursuest not maid through greenwood bough. 

Xor pliest thou now thy flying pace, 

With rivals in the mountain race ; 

But danger, death, and warrior deed, 

Are in thy course — speed, Malise, speed ! 



XIV. 

Fast as the fatal symbol flies. 
In arms the huts and hamlets rise ; 
From winding glen, from upland brown, 
They pour'd each hardy tenant down. 
Nor slack'd the messenger his pace ; 
He show'd the sign, he named the place. 
And pressing forward like the wind. 
Left clamor and surprise behind, 
The fisherman forsook the strand. 
The swarthy smith took dirk and brand ; 
With changed cheer, the mower blithe 
Left in the half-cut swathe the scythe. 
The herds without a keeper strayed. 
The plough was in mid-furrow stayed, 
The falc'ner toss'd his hawk away. 
The hunter left the stag at bay ; 
Prompt at the signal of alarms. 
Each son of Alpine rush'd to arms : 



77ie Lady of the Lake. 



So swept the tumult and affray 

Along the margin of Achray. 

Alas, thou lovely lake ! that e'er 

Thy banks should echo sounds of fear ! 

The rocks, the bosky thickets, sleep 

So stilly on thy bosom deep. 

The lark's blithe carol, from the cloud. 

Seems for the scene too gayly loud. 




Duncraggan's huts. 

XV. 
Speed, Malise, speed ! the lake is past, 
Duncraggan's huts appear at last, 
And peep, like moss-grown rocks, half seen, 
Half hidden in the copse so green ; 
There mayest thou rest, thy labor ilonc. 
Their Lord shall speed the signal on. - 
As stoops the hawk upon his j^rev, 
The henchman shot him down the w av 



122 



The Lady of the Lake. 



— What woeful accents load the gale ? 
The funeral yell, the female wail I 
A gallant hunter's sport is o'er, 
A valiant warrior fights no more. 




Lies Duncan on his lowly bier. 



Who, in the battle or the chase, 

At Roderick's side shall hll his place ! — 

Within the hall, where torches' ray 

Supplies the excluded beams of day, 

Lies Duncan on his lowly bier, 

And o'er him streams his widow's tear. 

His stripling son stands mournful by, 

His youngest weeps, but knows not why ! 



The Lady of the Lake, 123 

The village maids and matrons round 
The dismal coronach resound. 

XVI. 

CORONACH. 

He is gone on the mountain, 

He is lost to the forest, 
Like a summer-dried fountain, 

When our need was the sorest. 
The font, reappearing. 

From the rain-drops shall borrow, 
But to us comes no cheering, 

To Duncan no morrow ! 
The hand of the reaper 

Takes the ears that are hoary, 
But the voice of the weeper 

Wails manhood in glory. 
The autumn winds rushing 

Waft the leaves that are searcst. 
But our flower was in Hushing, 

When blighting was nearest. 

Fleet foot on the correi. 

Sage counsel in cumber. 
Red hand in the foray, 

How sound is thy slumber I 
Like the dew on thr niounl.iin, 

Like the foam on iIk' ri\tr. 
Like the bubble on the fountain. 

Thou art gone, and for tvcr ! 



124 ^/^^ Lady of the Lake. 

XVII. 

See Stumah, who, the bier beside, 
His master's corpse with wonder eyed. 
Poor Stumah ! whom his least halloo 
Could send like lightning o'er the dew. 
Bristles his crest, and points his ears. 
As if some stranger step he hears. 
'T is not a mourner's muffled tread. 
Who comes to sorrow o'er the dead, 
But headlong haste, or deadly fear, 
Urge the precipitate career. 
All stand aghast : — unheeding all, 
The henchman bursts into the hall ; 
Before the dead man's bier he stood ; 
Held forth the Cross besmear'd with blood : 
" The muster-place is Lanrick mead ; 
Speed forth the signal ! clansmen, speed I " 

xvm. 

Angus, the heir of Duncan's line, 

Sprung forth and seized the fatal sign. 

In haste the stripling to his side 

His father's dirk and broadsword tied ; 

But when he saw his mother's eye 

Watch him in speechless agony, 

Back to her open'd arms he flew, 

Press'd on her lips a fond adieu — 

" Alas ! " she sobb'd, — '' and yet, be gone, 

And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son ! " 

One look he cast upon the bier, 

Dash'd from his eye the gathering tear. 



llie Lady of the Lake, 



Breathed deep to clear his laboring breast, 

And toss'd aloft his bonnet crest, 

Then, Hke the high-bred colt, when, freed, 

First he essays his fire and speed, 

He vanish'd, and o'er moor and moss 

Sped forward with the Fiery Cross. 

Suspended was the widow's tear, 

While yet his footsteps she could hear ; 

And wlien she mark'd the henchman's eye 

Wet with unwonted sympathy, 

** Kinsman," she said, " his race is run. 

That should have sped thine errand on ; 

The oak has fall'n — the sapling bough 

Is all Duncraggan's shelter now. 

Yet trust I well, his duty done, 

The orphan's God will guard my son — 

And you, in many a danger true, 

At Duncan's hest your blades that drew, 

To arms, and guard that orphan's head I 

Let babes and women wail the dead." 

Then weapon-clang, and martial call. 

Resounded through the funeral hall. 

While from the walls the attcndaiU band 

Snatch'd sword and targe, wilh hurried hand ; 

And short and flitting eiurgv 

Glanced from the mourner's sunken c\-e 

As if the sounds to wai^rior dear 

Might rouse her Duncan from his bk r. 

Hut faded soon that borrow'd force ; 

'Grief claimM his ri'-hl. and tears their course. 



126 



The Lady of tlu Lake, 



XIX. 

Benledi saw the Cross of Fire, 
It glanced like lightning up Strath-Ire. 
O'er dale and hill the summons flew. 
Nor rest nor pause young Angus knew 




Firmer he grasp'd the Cross of strife. 

The tear that gathered in his eye 
He left the mountain breeze to dry ; 
Until, where Teith's young waters roll, 
Betwixt him and a wooded knoll, 
That graced the sable strath with green. 
The chapel of St. Bride was seen. 



The Lady of the Lake. 1 2 7 

Svvoln was the stream, remote the bridge, 
But Angus paused not on the edge ; 
Though the dark waves danced dizzily, 
Though reel'd his sympathetic eye, 
He dash'd amid the torrent's roar : 
His right hand high the crosslet bore, 
His left the pole-axe grasp'd, to guide 
And stay his footing in the tide. 
He stumbled twice — the foam splash'd high, 
With hoarser swell the stream raced by ; 
And had he fall'n, — forever there, 
Farewell Duncraggan's orphan heir I 
But still, as if in parting life. 
Firmer he grasp'd the Cross of strife. 
Until the opposing bank he gain'd. 
And up the chapel pathway strain'd. 

XX. 

A blithesome rout, that morning tide, 
Had sought the chapel of St. Bride. 
Her troth Tombea's Mary gave 
To Norman, heir of Armandave, 
And, issuing from the (lOthic arch. 
The bridal now resumed their march. 
In rude, but glad procession, came 
Bonneted sire and coif-clad dame ; 
And plaided youth, with jest and jeer. 
Which snoodcd maiden would not hear; 
And children, that, uiiwitliiiv; why. 
Lent the gay shout their shrillv cr\ ; 



12^ 



The Lady of the Lake. 



And minstrels, that in measures \'ied 
Before the young and bonny bride, 

Whose downcast eye and cheek disclose 
The tear and blush of morning rose. 
With virgin step, and bashful hand. 
She held the 'kerchief's snowy band ; 
The gallant bridegroom by her side, 
Beheld his prize with victor's pride. 
And the glad mother in her ear 
Was closely whispering words of cheer. 




Chapel of St. Bride. 



XXI. 

Who meets them at the churchyard gate i 
The messenoer of fear and fate I 



The Lady of the Lake. 



Haste in his hurried accent lies, 
And orief is swimming in his eyes. 
All drippino- from the recent flood, 
Panting- and travel-soil'd he stood, 



129 




-^ 



Thk I'.kium Now |v'usi'mi.:i> iiii-ik- makm 11. 



The fatal sj.^n of lire and swoid 

llrld foiih. ;md spnki' llic .ii>p()iiit cd word 



130 The Lady of the Lake. 

" The muster-place is Lanrick mead ; 
Speed forth the signal ! Norman, speed I " 
And must he change so soon the hand, 
Just link'd to his by holy band, 
For the fell Cross of blood and brand ? 
And must the day, so blithe that rose. 
And promised rapture in the close, 
Before its setting hour, divide 
The bridegroom from the plighted bride ? 
O fatal doom ! — it must ! it must ! 
Clan-Alpine's cause, her Chieftain's trust. 
Her summons dread, brook no delay ; 
Stretch to the race — away ! away ! 

XXII. 

Yet slow he laid his plaid aside. 
And, lingering, eyed his lovely bride. 
Until he saw the starting tear 
Speak woe he might not stop to cheer ; 
Then, trusting not a second look, 
In haste he sped him up the brook, 
Nor backward glanced, till on the heath 
Where Lubnaig's lake supplies the Teith. 
— What in the racer's bosom stirr'd ? 
The sickening pang of hope deferr'd. 
And memory, with a torturing train. 
Of all his morning visions vain. 
Mingled w^ith love's impatience, came 
The manly thirst for martial fame ; 
The stormy joy of mountaineers, 
Ere yet they rush upon the spears ; 



The La(fy of llie Lake, 1 3 1 

And zeal for Clan and Chieftain burnin;^., 
And hope, from well-fought field returning, 
With war's red honors on his crest, 
To clasp his Mary to his breast. 
Stung by such thoughts, o'er bank and brae, 
Like fire from fiint he glanced away. 
While high resolve, and feeling strong, 
Burst into voluntary song. 

XXIII. 

SONG. 

The heath this night must be my bed. 
The bracken curtain for my head, 
My lullaby the warder's tread. 

Far, far, from love and thee, Mary : 
To-morrow eve, more stilly laid. 
My couch may be my bloody plaid. 
My vesper song, thy wail, sweet maid ! 

It will not waken me, Mary I 
I may not, dare not, fancy now 
The grief that clouds thy lovely brow. 
1 dare not think upon thy vow. 

And all it promised me, Mary. 
No fond regret uuist Norman know; 
When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe, 
His iK'arl iniisl be like briuled bow, 

I lis foot like ai"i'ow Iree. Mai\'. 

A lime will eomc with fecliui; fraiii^ht. 
I'or. if 1 fall in battle fought. 



132 The Lady of flic Lake. 

Thy hapless lover's dying thought 

Shall be a thought on thee. Mary. 
And if return 'd from conquer 'd foes, 
How blithely will the evening close, 
How sweet the linnet sing repose, 

To mv voung bride and me, Marv 



XXIV. 

Xot faster o'er thy heathery braes, 
Balquidder, speeds the midnight blaze. 
Rushing, in conflagration strong, 
Thy deep ravines and dells along, 
Wrapping thy cliffs in purple glow. 
And reddening the dark lakes below ; 
Xor faster speeds it, nor so far. 
As o'er thy heaths the voice of war. 
The signal roused to martial coil 
The sullen margin of Loch \6\\, 
Waked still Loch Doine. and to the source 
Alarm'd, Balvaig, thy swampy course ; 
Then southward turn'd its rapid road 
Adown Strath-Gartney's valley broad, 
Till rose in arms each man might claim 
A portion in Clan- Alpine's name, 
From the gray sire, whose trembling hand 
Could hardly buckle on his brand. 
To the raw boy, whose shaft and bow 
Were yet scarce terror to the crow. 
Each valley, each sequester'd glen, 
Muster'd its little horde of men. 



l^ie Lady of the Lake. 133 

That met as torrents from the height 

In Highland dales their streams unite, 

Still gathering, as they pour along, 

A voice more loud, a tide more strong, 

Till at the rendezvous they stood 

By hundreds prompt for blows and blood ; 

Each train'd to arms since life began. 

Owning no tie but to his clan, 

No oath, but by his chieftain's hand, 

No law, but Roderick Dhu's command. 

XXV. 

That summer morn had Roderick Dhu 

Survey'd the skirts of Benvenuc, 

And sent his scouts o'er hill and heaih. 

To view the frontiers of Menteith. 

And backward came with news of truce ; 

Still lay each martial (ira'nic and I>ruce, 

In Rednoch courts no horsemen wait, 

No banner waved on Cardross gate, 

On Duchray's towers no l)ca(M)n shone. 

Nor scared the herons from Loch Con ; 

All seem'd at peace. — Now, wot ye why 

The Chieftain, with such anxious eye. 

Mre to the muster he repair. 

This westci'ii fronlici" scann'd with c\'U*e .^ — 

in Benveiuu''s most darksonu' elell. 

A fair, though cruel. i)K'(lg(' was Iclt ; 

l"'oi" i )()U^las, to his pi'oinisc tiiie. 

'Hiat inoiiiiii'' lioni ilic isle w il hdii'W. 



134 



The Lady of the Lake. 



And in deep sequester'd dell 
Had sought a low and lonely cell, 
By many a bard, in Celtic tongue, 
Has Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung : 



..^^ 




A softer name the Sax- 
ons gave, 

And call'd the grot the 
Goblin-cave. 



liEN VENUE. 



XXVI. 

It was a wild and strange retreat. 
As e'er was trod by outlaw's feet. 



The Lady of the Lake, 135 

The dell upon the mountain crest, 
Yawn'd like a gash on warrior's breast ; 
Its trench had stay'd full many a rock, 
Hurl'd by primeval earthquake shock 
From Benvenue's gray summit wild ; 
And here, in random ruin piled, 
They frown'd incumbent o'er the spot, 
And form'd the rugged sylvan grot. 
The oak and birch, with mingled shade. 
At noontide there a twilight made. 
Unless when short and sudden shone 
Some straggling beam on cliff or stone, 
With such a glimpse as prophet's eye 
Gains on thy depth. Futurity. 
No murmur waked the solemn still, 
Save tinkling of a fountain rill ; 
But when the wind chafed w^ith the lake, 
A sullen sound would upward break, 
With dashing hollow voice that spoke 
The incessant w^ar of wave and rock. 
Suspended cliffs, with hideous sway. 
Seem'd nodding o'er the cavern gray. 
From such a den the wolf had sprung. 
In such the wild-cat leaves her young ; 
Yet Douglas and his daughter fair 
Sought for a space their safety there. 
Gray Superstition's whisper dread 
Debarr'd the spot to vulgar tread ; 
For there, she said, did fays resort. 
And satvrs hold their svlvan (M)urt. 



136 21ie Lady of t/id Lake. 

By moonlight tread their mystic maze, 
And blast the rash beholder's gaze. 

XXVII. 

Now eve with western shadows long, 

Floated on Katrine bright and strong. 

When Roderick, with a chosen few, 

Repass'd the heights of Benvenue. 

Above the Goblin-cave they go, 

Through the wild pass of Beal-nam-bo ; 

The prompt retainers speed before. 

To launch the shallop from the shore, 

For 'cross Lock Katrine lies his way 

To view the passes of Achray, 

And place his clansmen in array. 

Yet lags the chief in musing mind, 

Unwonted sight, his men behind, 

A single page, to bear his sword. 

Alone attended on his lord ; 

The rest their way through thickets break. 

And soon await him by the lake. 

It was a fair and gallant sight. 

To view them from the neighboring height. 

By the low-levell'd sunbeam's light I 

For strength and stature, from the clan 

Each warrior was a chosen man. 

As even afar might well be seen. 

By their proud step and martial mien. 

Their feathers dance, their tartans float, 

Their targets gleam, as by the boat 



The Lady of the Lake 



»37 



A wild and warlike group they stand, 
That well became such mountain-strand. 




A wii.i) AM) wAKi IK1-: (iuour rnKV sianu. 



XW'lli. 
'riu'ir C'liicf, wiili step rcluclaiit. still 
Was lin;^c'riii;^ on the- <Ta;^;^y hill. 



138 The Lady of the Lake 

Hard by where turn'd apart the road 

To Douglas's obscure abode. 

It was but with that dawning morn, 

That Roderick Dhu had proudly sworn 

To drown his love in war's wild roar, 

Nor think of Ellen Douglas more ; 

But he who stems a stream with sand, 

And fetters flame with flaxen band, 

Has yet a harder task to prove — 

By firm resolve to conquer love I 

Eve finds the Chief, like restless ghost, 

Still hovering near his treasure lost ; 

For though his haughty heart deny 

A parting meeting to his eye. 

Still fondly strains his anxious ear. 

The accents of her voice to hear. 

And inly did he curse the breeze 

That waked to sound the rustling trees. 

But hark ! w^hat mingles in the strain } 

It is the harp of Allan-Bane, 

That wakes its measures slow and high, 

Attuned to sacred minstrelsy. 

What melting voice attends the strings } 

'T is Ellen, or an angel, sings. 



71ie Lady of the Lak^ 



139 



XXIX. 




HYMN TO THE VIRGIN. 

A7'e Maria! maiden mild I 

Listen to a maiden's prayer! 
Thou canst hear though from the 
wild, 

Thou canst save amid despair. 
Safe may we sleep beneath thy care, 

Though banish'd. outcast, and reviled — 
Maiden ! hear a maiden's prayer ; 
Mother, hear a suppliant child ! 

Ave Maria ! 



Ave Maria ! undeliled ! 

The flinty couch we now must share 
Shall seem with down of eider piled, 

If thy protei^tion hover there. 
The murky cavern's heavy air 

Shall breathe of balm if thou hast smiled ; 
Then. Maiden ! hear a maiden's piayer, 

Mother, list a suppliant child ' 

Ave M<uAi.' 



14-0 The Lady of the Lake. 

Ave Maria ! stainless styled ! 

Foul demons of the earth and air, 
From this their wonted haunt exiled, 

Shall flee before thy presence fair. 
We bow us to our lot of care, 

Beneath thy guidance reconciled ; 
Hear for a maid a maiden's prayer, 

And for a father hear a child ! 

Ave Maria . 

XXX. 

Died on the harp the closing hymn — 
Unmoved in attitude and limb, 
As list'ning still, Clan-Alpine's lord 
Stood leaning on his heavy sword. 
Until the page, with humble sign. 
Twice pointed to the sun's decline. 
Then while his plaid around him cast, 
" It is the last time — 't is the last," 
He muttered thrice, — " the last time e'er 
That angel-voice shall Roderick hear I " 
It was a goading thought — his stride 
Hied hastier down the mountain-side ; 
Sullen he flung him in the boat, 
And instant 'cross the lake it shot. 
They landed in that silvery bay. 
And eastward held their hasty way, 
Till, with the latest beams of light, 
The band arrived on Lanrick height, 
Where muster'd, in the vale below, 
Clan-Alpine's men in martial show. 



The Lady of the Lake. 



141 



XXXI. 

A various scene the clansmen made, 

Some sate, some stood, some slowly stray'd ; 




Stood i.kaninc; on mis ni:.\vv swoud. 



lUit most willi m.'inllcs folded round, 
Were couch'd to n-st ui)on tin* 'v^iound, 



142 The Lady of the Lake. 



Scarce to be known by curious eye. 

From the deep heather where they lie, 

So well was match'd the tartan screen 

With heath-bell dark and brackens green ; 

Unless where, here and there, a blade, 

Or lance's point, a glimmer made, 

Like glow-worm twinkhng through the shade. 

But when, advancing through the gloom, 

They saw the Chieftain's eagle plume, 

Their shout of welcome, shrill and wide. 

Shook the steep mountain's steady side. 

Thrice it arose, and lake and fell 

Three times return'd the martial yell ; 

It died upon Bochastle's plain. 

And rile nee claimed her evening reign. 



CANTO FOURTH. 
The Prophecy. 

I. 

"The rose is fairest when 't is buddini^ new, 
And hope is brightest when it dawns from 
fears : 
The rose is sweetest wash'd with morning 
dew, 
And love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears. 
O wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears, 
I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave. 
Emblem of hope and love through future 

years ! " 
Thus spoke young Norman, heir of Armandave, 
What time the sun arose on Vennachar's broad 
wave. 

II. 

Such fond conceit, half said, half sung. 
Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue. 
All while he stripp'd the wild-rose spray, 
His axe and bow beside him lay, 
I'^)r on a |)ass 'l\\ ixt lake and wood. 
A wakeful sculiiu'l he stood. 



144 ^^^^ Lady of the Lake. 




Stanp. or thou diest! 



The Lady of the Lake. 145 

Hark ! — on the rock a footstep rung. 

And instant to his arms he sprung. 

** Stand, or thou diest ! — What, Malise ? — soon 

Art thou return'd from Braes of Doune. 

By thy keen step and glance I know. 

Thou bring'st us tidings of the foe." 

(For while the Fiery Cross hied on. 

On distant scout had Malise gone.) 

"Where sleeps the Chief .^" the henchman 

said. 
'* Apart in yonder misty glade ; 
To his lone couch Fll be your guide." 
Then call'd a slumberer by his side, 
And stirr'd him with his slacken'd bow — 
" Up, up, Glentarkin ! rouse thee, ho ! 
We seek the Chieftain ; on the track, 
Keep eagle watch till I come back." 

III. 

Together up the pass they sped : 

" What of the foemen } " Norman said. 

" Varying reports from near and far ; 

This certain, — that a band of war 

Has for two days been ready boune. 

At prompt command, to march from Doune ; 

King James, the while, with princely powers, 

Holds revelry in Stirling towers. 

Soon will this dark and gathering cloud 

Speak on our glens in tlunuler loud. 

Inured to bide such bittiT boul. 

The w;ii-i-i()i-'s plaid may hcai- ii (uit : 



146 The Lady of the Lake. 

But, Norman, how wilt thou provide 

A shelter for thy bonny bride ? " — 

" What I know ye not that Roderick's care 

To the lone isle hath caused repair 

Each maid and matron of the clan, 

And every child and aged man, 

Unfit for arms ; and given his charge. 

Nor skiff nor shallop, boat nor barge, 

Upon these lakes shall float at large. 

But all beside the islet moor, 

That such dear pledge may rest secure ? " 



IV. 

" T is well advised — the Chieftain's plan 

Bespeaks the father of his clan. 

But wherefore sleeps Sir Roderick Dhu 

Apart from all his followers true ? " — 

" It is, because last evening-tide 

Brian an augury hath tried, 

Of that dread kind which must not be 

Unless in dread extremity, 

The Taghairm call'd ; by which afar, 

Our sires foresaw the events of war. 

Duncraggan's milk-white bull they slew.' 

MALISE. 

" Ah ! well the gallant brute I knew ! 
The choicest of the prey we had. 
When swept our merry-men Gallangad. 



27ie Lady of i/ie Lake 



M7 



His hide was snow, liis horns were dark, 
His red eye glow'd Hke fiery spark ; 
So fierce, so tameless, and so fleet, 
Sore did he cumber our retreat, 
And kept our stoutest kernes in awe, 
Even at the pass of Beal 'maha. 

r"" '-' • ■■ • • ? 




I)t NC Iv'.\(.(;an's Mil Is-\VH1 I K lU l.l.. 



lUit Steep and fiinty was the road. 
And sharp the hurryin.U' pikemcn's v^oad. 
And when wc (\anu' to l)cini;in's Row. 
A child nn<'hl scatheless slioke his brow. 



148 l^he Lady of the Lake. 

V. 

NORMAN. 

'* That bull was slain : his reeking hide 
They stretch'd the cataract beside, 
Whose waters their wild tumult toss 
Adown the black and craggy boss 
Of that huge cliff, whose ample verge 
Tradition calls the Hero's Targe. 
Couch'd on a shelve beneath its brink, 
Close where the thundering torrents sink, 
Rocking beneath their headlong sway, 
And drizzled by the ceaseless spray, 
Midst groan of rock, and roar of stream, 
The wizard waits prophetic dream. 
Nor distant rests the Chief ; — but hush ! 
See,' gliding slow through mist and bush, 
The hermit gains yon rock, and stands 
To gaze upon our slumbering bands. 
Seems he not, Malise, like a ghost, 
That hovers o'er a slaughter'd host ? 
Or raven on the blasted oak. 
That, watching while the deer is broke, 
His morsel claims with sullen croak } " 



MALISE. 

— *' Peace ! peace I to other than to me. 
Thy words were evil augury ; 



The Lady of the Lake. 149 

But still I hold Sir Roderick's blade 

Clan-Alpine's omen and her aid, 

Not aught that, glean'd from heaven or hell, 

Yon fiend-begotten monk can tell. 

The Chieftain joins him, see — and now, 

Together they descend the brow." 



VI. 

And, as they came, with Alpine's Lord 
The Hermit Monk held solemn word : 
" Roderick ! it is a fearful strife, 
For man endow'd with mortal life. 
Whose shroud of sentient clay can still 
Feel feverish pang and fainting chill, 
Whose eye can stare in stony trance, 
Whose hair can rouse like warrior's lance,- 
'T is hard for such to view, unfurl'd. 
The curtain of the future world. 
Yet witness every quaking limb, 
My sunken pulse, mine eyeballs dim. 
My soul with harrowing anguish torn. 
This for my Chieftain have I borne ! — 
The shapes that sought my fearful couch, 
A human tongue may ne'er avouch ; 
No mortal man, — save he, who. bred 
Ik'twecn the living and the dead. 
Is gifted beyond nature's law, — 
Had e'er surviv'd to say ho saw. 
At length ihc fateful answer (\iinc, 
In characters of living Maine ! 



The Lady of the Lake, 



Not spoke ill word, nor blazed in scroll, 
But borne and branded on my soul ; — 
Which spills the foremost foeman's 

LIFE, 

That party conquers in the strife." — 



VII. 

" Thanks, Brian, for thy zeal and care ! 
Good is thine augury, and fair. 
Clan-Alpine ne'er in battle stood. 
But first our broadswords tasted blood. 
A surer victim still I know. 
Self-offer'd to the auspicious blow : 
A spy has sought my land this morn, 
No eve shall witness his return I 
My followers guard each pass's mouth. 
To east, to westward, and to south ; 
Red Murdoch, bribed to be his guide, 
Has charge to lead his steps aside, 
Till, in deep path or dingle brown, 
He light on those shall bring him down. 
— But sec, who comes his news to show 
Malise I what tidinos of the foe } " — 



VIII. 

" At Doune, o'er many a spear and glaive 
Two Barons proud their banners wave. 
I saw the Moray's silver star, 
And mark'd the sable pale of Mar." — 



llie Lady of the Lake. 



•' By Alpine's soul, high tidings those ! 

I love to hear of worthy foes. 

When move they on? " — " To-morrow's noon 

Will see them here for battle boune." — 

" Then shall it see a meeting stern I — 

But for the place — say, couldst thou learn 

Naught of the friendly clans of Earn ? 

Strengthen'd by them, we well might bide 

The battle on Benledi's side. 

Thou couldst not .^ — Well ! Clan-Alpine's men 

Shall man the Trosach's shaggy glen ; 

Within Loch Katrine's gorge we'll fight. 

All in our maids' and matrons' sight, 

Each for his hearth and household fire. 

Father for child, and son for sire, — 

Lover for maid beloved ! — But why — 

Is it the breeze affects mine eye } 

Or dost thou come, ill-omen'd tear ! 

A messenger of doubt or fear ? 

No ! sooner may the Saxon lance 

Unfix Benledi from his stance, 

Than doubt or terror can pierce through 

The unyielding heart of Roderick Dim ! 

'T is stubborn as his trusty targe. — 

Each to his post ! — all know their charge. " 

The pibroch sounds, the bands advance. 

The broadswords gleam, the banners dance, 

Obedient to the Chieftain's glance. 

— I turn me from the martial roar. 

And see Coir-l'riskin once moic. 



The Lady of the Lake. 



IX. 

Where is the Douglas ? — he is gone ; 
And Ellen sits on the gray stone 
Fast by the cave, and makes her moan ; 
While vainly Allan's words of cheer 
Are pour'd on her unheeding ear. — 
" He will return — Dear lady, trust I— 
With joy return ; — he will, he must. 
Well was it time to seek, afar, 
Some refuge from impending war. 
When e'en Clan-Alpine's rugged swarm 
Are cow'd by the approaching storm. 
I saw their boats with many a light, 
Floating the live-long yesternight, 
Shifting like flashes darted forth 
By the red streamers of the north ; 
I mark'd at morn how close they ride, 
Thick moor'd by the lone islet's side, 
Like wild-ducks couching in the fen. 
When stoops the hawk upon the glen. 
Since this rude race dare not abide 
The peril on the mainland side, 
Shall not thy noble father's care 
Some safe retreat for thee prepare } " — 

X. 

ELLEX. 

" No, Allan, no I Pretext so kind 
My wakeful terrors could not blind. 



71ic Lady of the Lake. 1 5 3 

When in such tender tone, yet grave, 

Douglas a parting blessing gave. 

The tear that glisten'd in his eye 

Drown'd not his purpose fix'd on high. 

My soul, though feminine and weak, 

Can image his ; e'en as the lake. 

Itself disturb'd by slightest stroke, 

Reflects the invulnerable rock. 

He hears report of battle rife. 

He deems himself the cause of strife. 

I saw him redden, when the theme 

Turn'd, Allan, on thine idle dream. 

Of Malcolm Gramme, in fetters bound. 

Which I, thou saidst, about him wound. 

Thin'kst thou he trow'd thine omen aught .^ 

Oh no ! 'twas apprehensive thought 

For the kind youth, — for Roderick too— 

(Let me be just) that friend so true ; 

In danger both, and in our cause ! 

Minstrel, the Douglas dare not pause. 

Why else that solemn warning given, 

* If not on earth, we meet in heaven ! ' 

Why else, to Cambus-kenneth's fane, 

If eve return him not again. 

Am I to hie, and make me known ? 

Alas! he goes to Scotland's ihronc, 

lUiys his fricFid's safety with his own ; — 

lie goes to do what 1 had done. 

Had Douglas' daughtcM- been his son!" — 



154 The Lady of the Lake. 



XI. 

" Nay, lovely Ellen I — dearest, nay ! 
If aught should his return delay, 
He only named yon holy fane 
As fitting place to meet again. 
Be sure he's safe ; and for the Graeme, — 
Heaven's blessing on his gallant name I— 
My vision'd sight may yet prove true, 
Nor bode of ill to him or you. 
When did my gifted dream beguile } 
Think of the stranger at the isle, 
And think upon the harpings slow. 
That presaged this approaching woe ! 
Sooth was my prophecy of fear ; 
Believe it when it augurs cheer. 
Would we had left this dismal spot ! 
Ill luck still haunts a fairy grot. 
Of such a wondrous tale I know — 
Dear lady, change that look of woe. 
My harp was wont thy grief to cheer."— 



ELLEN. 

" Well, be it as thou wi.t ; I hear. 
But cannot stop the bursting tear." 
The minstrel tried his simple art, 
But distant far was Ellen's heart. 



I'he Lady of the Lake. 



155 



XII. 
BALLAD : ALICE BRAND. 




MERRY IT 13 IN THE GOOD GREENWOOD. 

Merry it is in the good greenwood, 

When the mavis and merle are singing. 

When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are 
in cry, 
And the hunter's horn is ringing, 

" O AHce Brand, my native land 

Is lost for love of you ; 
y\nd we must hold by wood and wold. 

As outlaws wont to do. 



•M) Alice, 't was all for thy locks so hri-hl. 

And 't was all for thine ryi's so blut'. 
Thai on the night of our luckless (light, 

Thv broiler boUl 1 sK-w . 



156 The Lady of the Lake. 

" Now must I teach to hew the beech 

The hand that held the glaive, 
For leaves to spread our lowly bed, 

And stakes to fence our cave. 

'' And for vest of pall, thy fingers small. 

That wont on harp to stray, 
A cloak must shear from the slaughter'd deer, 

To keep the cold away." — 

" O Richard ! if my brother died, 

' T was but a fatal chance ; 
For darkling w^as the battle tried, 

And fortune sped the lance. 

** If pall and vair no more I wear, 

Nor thou the crimson sheen. 
As warm, we'll say, is the russet gray 

As gay the forest-green. 

** And, Richard, if our lot be hard, 

And lost thy native land. 
Still Alice has her own Richard, 

And he his Alice Brand." 

XIII. 

BALLAD CONTINUED. 
'T is merry, 't is merry, in good greenwood. 

So blithe Lady Alice is singing ; 
On the beech's pride, and oak's brown side, 

Lord Richard's axe is ringing. 



The Lady of the Lake. 157 

Up spoke the moody Elfin King, 

Who won'd within the hill, — 
Like wind in the porch of a ruin'd church. 

His voice was ghostly shrill. 

" Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak. 

Our moonlight circle's screen? 
Or who comes here to chase the deer. 

Beloved of our Elfin Queen ? 
Or who may dare on wold to wear 

The fairies' fatal green ? 

" Up, Urgan, up ! to yon mortal hie. 

For thou wert christen'd man ; 
For cross or sign thou wilt not fly. 

For mutter'd word or ban. 

*' Lay on him the curse of the wither'd heart. 

The curse of the sleepless eye ; 
Till he wish and pray that his life would part, 

Nor yet find leave to die." 



XIV. 

B ALT. AD CONTINUED. 

'T is merry, 't is merry, in good greenwood, 
Though the birds have still'd their singing ; 

The evening blaze doth Alice raise, 
And Richard is fagots bringing. 



158 



IVie Lady of the Lake. 



Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf, 

Before Lord Richard stands, 
And as he cross'd and bless'd himself, 
" I fear not sign," quoth the grisly elf, 
** That is made with bloody hands." 







Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf. 



llie Lady of the Lake, 159 

But out then spoke she, AHce Brand, 

That woman void of fear, — 
** And if there's blood upon his hand, 

'T is but the blood of deer." — 

** Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood ! 

It cleaves unto his hand. 
The stain of thine own kindly blood. 

The blood of Ethert Brand." 

Then forward stepp'd she, Alice Brand, 

And made the holy sign, — 
"And if there's blood on Richard's hand, 

A spotless hand is mine. 

" And I conjure thee, Demon elf. 

By Him whom Demons fear, 
To show us whence thou art thyself, 

And what thine errand here ? " — 

XV. 

HALLAI) CONTINUED. 

" 'T is merry, 't is merry, in Fairy-land. 

When fairy birds are singing, 
When the court doth ride by their monarch's 
side, 

With bit and bridle ringing : 

" And gayly shines the l-'aii-v-land. 

\\\\\ all is glistening show. 
Like ihc idle gleam that 1 )cc(nibcr's beam 

('.in dart on ire antl snow. 



i6o The Lady of the Lake. 

" And fading, like that varied gleam, 

Is our inconstant shape, 
Who now like knight and lady seem. 

And now like dwarf and ape. 

" It was between the night and day, 
When the Fairy King has power. 
That I sunk down in a sinful fray, 
And, *twixt life and death, was snatch 'd away 
To the joyless Elfin bower. 

" But wist I of a woman bold, 

Who thrice my brow durst sign, 
I might regain my mortal mold, 

As fair a form as thine." 

She cross'd him once — she cross'd him twice- 

That lady was so brave ; 
The fouler grew his goblin hue, 

Tlie darker grew the cave. 

She cross'd him thrice, that lady bold ; 

He rose beneath her hand 
The fairest knight on Scottish mold, 

Her brother, Ethert Brand ! 

Merry it is in good greenwood, 

When the mavis and merle are singing 

But merrier were they in Dunfermline gray, 
When all the bells were ringing. 



The Lady of the Lake, 



XVI. 

Just as the minstrel sounds were stay'd, 

A stranger climbM the steepy glade : 

His martial step, his stately mien, 

His hunting suit of Lincoln green, 

His eagle glance, remembrance claims — 

'T is Snowdoun's Knight, 't is James Fitz- 

James. 
Ellen beheld as in a dream. 
Then, starting, scarce suppress'd a scream : 
**0 stranger! in such hour of fear. 
What evil hap has brought thee here ? " — 
" An evil hap, how can it be. 
That bids me look again on thee ? 
By promise bound, my former guide 
Met me betimes this morning tide. 
And marshall'd, over bank and bourne, 
The happy path of my return." — 
" The happy path ! — what ! said he naught 
Of war, of battle to be fought, 
Of guarded pass ? " — " No, by my faith I 
Nor saw I aught could augur scathe." — 
*' O haste thee, Allan, to the kern, 
— Yonder his tartans I discern ; 
Learn thou his purpose, and conjure 
That he will guide the stranger sure ! — 
What prompted thee, unhai^jpy man ? 
The meanest serf in Roderick's clan 
Had not been bribed bv loxc or fear. 
Ihiknowii to him to giiidi- thee hrre." 



1 62 27ie Lady of the Lake. 




^issi-^\'< 



Ellen beheld as in a dream. 



The Lady of the Lake. 163 



XVII. 

" Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be, 

Since it is worthy care from thee ; 

Yet life I hold but idle breath, 

When love or honor's weigh'd with death. 

Then let me profit by my chance. 

And speak my purpose bold at once. 

I come to bear thee from a wild, 

Where ne'er before such blossom smiled : 

By this soft hand to lead thee far 

From frantic scenes of feud and war. 

Near Bochastle my horses wait ; 

They bear us soon to Stirlinij^ oate. 

I'll place thee in a lovely bower, 

I'll i^uard thee like a tender flower " 

" O ! hush. Sir Knii^ht ! 't were female art. 

To say I do not read thy heart ; 

Too much, before, my selfish ear 

Was idly soothed my praise to hear. 

That fatal bait hath lured thee l)ack. 

In deathful hour, o'er daiv^'crous track ; 

And how, () how, can I atone 

The wreck my vanity brought on I - 

One way remains I'll tell him all 

Yes! strtiiLixlini;- bosom, forth it shall ! 

Thou, whose lii^ht folly bears the blame. 

r.uy lliiiie own pardon wilh thy shanu- ! 

\\\\\ lirsl niv fathci- is a man 

()ulla\\'d and rxilcd. uiulci- ban. 



164 The Lady of the Lake. 

The price of blood is on his head, 

With me 't were infamy to wed. — 

Still would'st thou speak? — then hear the truth 

Fitz-James, there is a noble youth, — 

If yet he is I — exposed for me 

And mine to dread extremity — 

Thou hast the secret of my heart ; 

Forgive, be generous, and depart I " 

xvni. 

Fitz-James knew every wily train 

A lady's hckle heart to gain. 

But here he knew and felt them vain. 

There shot no glance from Ellen's eye, 

To give her steadfast speech the lie ; 

In maiden confidence she stood, 

Though mantled in her cheek the blood, 

And told her love with such a sigh 

Of deep and hopeless agony, 

As death had seal"d her Malcolm's doom. 

And she sat sorrowing on his tomb. 

Hope vanished from Fitz-James's eye, 

But not with hope tied sympathy. 

He proffer'd to attend her side, 

As brother would a sister guide. — 

" O I little know'st thou Roderick's heart I 

Safer for both we go apart. 

O haste thee, and from Allan learn. 

If thou may'st trust yon wily kern." 

With hand upon his forehead laid. 



The Lady of the Lake. 165 

The conflict of his mind to shade, 

A parting step or two he made ; 

Then, as some thought had cross'd his brain, 

He paused, and turn'd, and came again. 



XIX. 

" Hear, lady, yet a parting word ! — 

It chanced in fight that my poor sword 

Preserved the life of Scotland's lord. 

This ring the grateful Monarch gave. 

And bade, when I had boon to crave. 

To bring it back and boldly claim 

The recompense that I would name. 

Ellen, I am no courtly lord. 

But one who lives by lance and sword, 

Whose castle is his helm and shield, 

His lordship the embattled field. 

What from a prince can I demand. 

Who neither reck of state nor land ? 

Ellen, thy hand — the ring is thine ; 

Each guard and usher knows the sign. 

Seek thou the king without delay ; 

This signet shall secure thy way ; 

And claim thy suit, whate'er it be, 

As ransom of his pledge to me." 

He placed the golden circlet on. 

Paused — kiss'd her hand -and then was gone. 

The aged Minstrel stood a,^liast. 

So hastily l''it/.-Janu's shot jiast. 



1 66 The Lady of the Lake, 

He join'd his guide, and winding down 
The ridges of the mountain brown, 
Across the stream they took their way. 
That joins Loch Katrine to Achray. 

XX. 

All in the Trosach's glen was still, 
Noontide was sleeping on the hill : 
Sudden his guide whoop 'd loud and high — 
" Murdoch I was that a signal cry? " 
He stammer 'd forth, — " I shout to scare 
Yon raven from his dainty fare." 
He look'd — he knew the raven's prey, 
His own brave steed : — '' Ah I gallant gray I 
For thee — for me, perchance — 't were well 
We ne'er had seen the Trosach's dell. — 
Murdoch, move first — but silently ; 
Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die ! " 
Jealous and sullen, on they fared. 
Each silent, each upon his guard. 

XXI. 

Now wound the path its dizzy ledge 
Around a precipice's edge, 
When lo ! a wasted female form, 
Blighted by wrath of sun and storm, 
In tatter'd weeds and wild array, 
Stood on a cliff beside the way, 
And glancing round her restless eye, 
Upon the wood, the rock, the sky, 
Seem'd naught to mark, yet all to spy. 



The Lady of tJic Lake. 167 

Her brow was wreath'd with gaudy broom ; 

With gesture wild she waved a plume 

Of feathers which the eagles fling 

To crag and cliff from dusky wing ; 

Such spoils her desperate step had sought. 

Where scarce was footing for the goat. 




Yon k-a\kn i-uo.m mis d 



MIS DAINIV I \KK. 



'I'hc tartan plaid she lii-si di'sci icd. 
And shrick'd till all ihc locks replied; 
As loud she lau'^h'd when near they di"t'W, 
I'Or then tlu- Lowland >;ail) she knew ; 



1 68 



The Lady of the Lake, 



And then her hands she wildly wrung, 
And then she wept, and then she sung 




A WASTED FEMALE FORM. 



She sung ! — the voice in better time, 
Perchance to harp or lute might chime; 
And now though strain'd and roughen'd, still 
Runc^ wildlv sweet to dale and hill. 



The Lady of the Lake, 169 

XXII. 

SONG. 

They bid me sleep, they bid me pray, 

They say my brain is warp'd and wrung — 
I cannot sleep on Highland brae, 

I cannot pray in Highland tongue. 
But were I now where Allan glides, 
Or heard my native Devan's tides, 
So sweetly would I rest, and pray 
That heaven would close my wintry day ! 
'T was thus my hair they bade me braid, 

They bade me to the church repair ; 
It was my bridal morn they said, 

And my true love would meet me there. 
But woe betide the cruel guile. 
That drown'd in blood the morning smile ! 
And woe betide the fairy dream ! 
I only waked to sob and scream. 

XXIII. 

'* Who is this maid ? what means her lay 1 
She hovers o'er the hollow way, 
And flutters wide her mantle gray, 
As the lone heron spreads his wing, 
By twilight, o'er a haunted spring." — 
**'T is Blanche of Devan," Murdoch said, 
" A crazed and captive Lowland maid, 
Ta'en on the morn she was a bride, 
When Roderick foray 'd Devan-side. 



lyo The Lady of the Lake. 

The gay bridegroom resistance made, 

And felt our Chief's unconquer'd blade. 

I marvel she is now at large, 

But oft she 'scapes from Maudlin's charge. — 

Hence, brain-sick fool I " — He raised his bow : — 

" Now, if thou strikest her but one blow, 

I'll pitch thee from the cliff as far 

As ever peasant pitch'd a bar I " — 

** Thanks, champion, thanks I " the INIaniac cried, 

And press'd her to Fitz-James's side. 

" See the gray pennons I prepare, 

To seek my true-love through the air I 

I will not lend that savage groom, 

To break his fall, one downy plume ! 

No ! — deep amid disjointed stones, 

The wolves shall batten on his bones. 

And then shall his detested plaid, 

By brush and brier in mid air staid, 

Wave forth a banner fair and free, 

Meet signal for their revelry." — 



XXIV. 

**Hush thee, poor maiden, and be still I ' 
" O I thou look'st kindly, and I will. — 
Mine eye has dried and wasted been, 
But still it loves the Lincoln green ; 
And, though mine ear is all unstrung, 
Still, still it loves the Lowland tongue. 



The Lady of the Lake. 1 7 i 

'' For O my sweet William was forester true, 
He stole poor Blanche's heart away! 

His coat it was all of the greenwood hue, 
And so blithely he trill'd the Lowland lay ! 

'' It was not that I meant to tell . . . 
But thou art wise and guessest well." 
Then, in a low and broken tone. 
And hurried note, the song went on. 
Still on the Clansm.an, fearfully, 
She fixed her apprehensive eye ; 
Then turn'd it on the Knight, and then 
Her look glanced wildly o'er the glen. 



XXV. 

** The toils are pitchVl, and the stakes are set. 

Ever singing merrily, merrily ; 
The bows they bend, and the knives they whel. 

Hunters live so cheerily. 

"It was a stag, a stag of ten, 

Bearing its branches sturdily ; 
He came stately down the glen. 

Ever sing hardily, hardily. 

" It was there he met with a wouiuknl ^Vw, 

She was bleeding deathfnily ; 
Sh<- wani'd him of the toils be-low, 

(). so f.iiihfullv. f.iiilifullv ! 



172 The Lady of the Lake. 

*' He had an eye, and he could heed, 

Ever sing warily, warily ; 
He had a foot and he could speed — 

Hunters watch so narrowly." 



XXVI. 

Fitz-James's mind was passion-toss'd. 

When Ellen's hints and fears were lost ; 

But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought, 

And Blanche's song conviction brought. — 

Not like a stag that spies the snare, 

But lion of the hunt aware. 

He waved at once his blade on high. 

" Disclose thy treachery, or die ! " 

Forth at full speed the Clansman flew. 

But in his race his bow he drew. 

The shaft just grazed Fitz-James's crest, 

And thrill'd in Blanche's faded breast. — 

Murdoch of Alpine ! prove thy speed, 

For ne'er had Alpine's son such need ! 

With heart of fire, and foot of wind, 

The fierce avenger is behind ! 

Fate judges of the rapid strife — 

The forfeit death — the prize is life ! 

Thy kindred ambush lies before. 

Close couch'd upon the heathery moor ; 

Them couldst thou reach ! — it may not be— 

Thine ambush'd kin thou ne'er shall see. 

The fiery Saxon gains on thee ! 



21ie Lady of the Lake, 173 




Ml'KDO^II (iV AlIINK. 



174 The Lady of the Lake. 

Resistless speeds the deadly thrust. 
As lightning strikes the pine to dust ; 
With foot and hand Fitz- James must strain. 
Ere he can win his blade again. 
Bent o'er the fall'n, with falcon eye, 
He grimly smiled to see him die : 
Then slower wended back his way 
Where the poor maiden bleeding Jay. 

XXVII. 

She sate beneath the birchen-tree, 

Her elbow resting on her knee : 

She had withdrawn the fatal shaft, 

And gazed on it. and feebly laugh 'd ; 

Her wreath of broom and feathers gray, 

Daggled with blood beside her lay. 

The Knight to stanch the life-stream tried 

" Stranger, it is in vain ! " she cried. 

** This hour of death has given me more 

Of reason's power than years before ; 

For, as these ebbing veins decay, 

My frenzied visions fade away. 

A helpless injured wretch I die, 

And something tells me in thine eye, 

That thou wert mine avenger born. — 

Seest thou this tress } — O ! still I've w on\ 

This little tress of yellow hair, 

Through danger, frenzy, and despair ! 

It once was bright and clear as thine. 

But blood and tears have dimm'd its shine. 



The Lady of the Lake. i 7 5 

I will not tell thee vvhen 't was shred, 

Nor from what guiltless victim's head — 

My brain would turn I — but it shall wave 

Like plumage on thy helmet brave, 

Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain, 

And thou wilt bring it me again. — 

I waver still. — O God ! more bright 

Let reason beam her parting light ! — 

01 by thy knighthood's honor'd sign, 

And for thy life preserved by mine, 

When thou shalt see a darksome man, 

Who boasts him Chiaf of Alpine's clan, 

With tartans broad and shadowy plume. 

And hand of blood, and brow of gloom, 

Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong 

And wreak poor Blanche of Devan's wrong — 

They watch fo; thee by pass and fell . . . 

Avoid the path . . . O God ! . . . farewell." 

XXV II I. 

A kindly heart had brave Filz- James ; 
Fast pour'd his eyes at pity's claims, 
And now with mingled grief and ire, 
He .saw the murdered maid expire. 
"God, in my need, be my relief. 
As I wreak this on yonder Chief I " 
A lock from Blanche's tresses fair 
lie blended with her bridegroom's hair; 
The niiii'^lcd braid in blood he dvcd. 
And placed il on his honncl-side : 



176 The Lady of the Lake. 

** By Him whose word is truth I I swear 
No other favor will I w^ear. 

Till this sad token I imbrue 

In the best blood of Roderick Dhu! 

— But hark I what means yon faint halloo ? 

The chase is up, — but they shall know. 

The stag at ba3"'s a dangerous foe.'* 

Barr'd from the known but guarded way. 

Through copse and cliff Fitz-James must stray, 

And oft must change his desperate track, 

By stream and precipice turn'd back. 

Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length. 

From lack of food and loss of strength. 

He couch'd him in a thicket hoar, 

And thought his toils and perils o'er : — 

" Of all my rash adventures past. 

This frantic feat must prove the last ! 

Who e'er so mad but might have guess'd, 

That all this Highland hornet's nest 

Would muster up in swarms so soon 

As e'er they heard of bands at Doune ? — 

Like bloodhounds now they search me out, — 

Hark to the whistle and the shout ! — 

If farther through the wilds I go, 

I only fall upon the foe : 

I'll couch me here till evening gray. 

Then darkling try my dangerous way." 

XXIX. 

The shades of eve come slowly down, 

The woods are wrapt in deeper brown. 



The Lady of the Lake, 1 7 7 

The owl awakens from her dell, 

The fox is heard upon the fell ; 

Enough remains of glimmering light 

To guide the wanderer's steps aright. 

Yet not enough from far to show 

His figure to the watchful foe. 

With cautious step, and ear awake, 

He climbs the crag and threads the brake ; 

And not the summer solstice, there, 

Temper'd the midnight mountain air, 

But every breeze, that swept the wold, 

Benumb'd his drenched limbs with cold. 

In dread, in danger, and alone. 

Famish 'd and chill'd, through ways unknown, 

Tangled and steep, he journey'd on ; 

Till, as the rock's huge point he turn'd, 

A watch-fire close before him burn'd. 

XXX. 

Beside its embers red and clear, 

Bask'd, in his plaid, a mountaineer : 

And up he sprung wnth sword in hand, — 

" Thy name and purpose ! Saxon, stand ! " — 

'* A stranger." — " What dost thou require ? " — 

" Rest and a guide, and food and fire. 

My life's beset, my path is lost, 

The gale has chill'd my limbs with frost.** — 

" Art thou a friend to Roderick ? '* — " No.'* — 

" Thou darest not call thyself a foe } " — 

" 1 dare ! to liim and all his band 

He brings to aid his murderous liand." — 



178 



The Lady of the Lake 



" Bold words I — but, though the beast of game 
The privilege of chase may claim, 
Though space and law the stag we lend, 
Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend, 
Who ever reck'd, where, how, or when, 
The prowling fox was trapp'd or slain ? 
Thus treacherous scouts, — yet sure they lie. 
Who say thou camest a 
secret spy ! " 




With cautious 



STEP, AND EAR AWAKE. 



" They do, by heaven !— Come Roderick Dhu, 

And of his clan the boldest two. 

And let me but till morning rest, 

I write the falsehood on their crest." — 

" If by the blaze I mark aright. 

Thou bear'st the belt and spur of Knight." 

** Then by these tokens mayest thou know 

Each proud oppressor's mortal foe." — 



The Lady of the Lake. 1 7 9 




TllV NAMK AND PUUI'OSk! SaXON, SIANU!"- 



I So The Lady of the Lahe. 

"Enough, enough ; sit down and share 
A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare." 

XXXI. 

He gave him of his Highland cheer, 

The harden 'd flesh of mountain deer ; 

Dr}' fuel on the fire he laid, 

And bade the Saxon share his plaid. 

He tended him hke welcome guest, 

Then thus his further speech address'd. 

" Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu 

A clansman born, a kinsman true ; 

Each word against his honor spoke, 

Demands of me avenging stroke ; 

Yet more, — upon thy fate, 't is said, 

A mighty augury is laid. 

It rests with me to wind my horn, — 

Thou art with numbers overborne ; 

It rests with me, here, brand to brand. 

Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand : 

But, not for clan, nor kindred's cause. 

Will I depart from honor's laws ; 

To assail a wearied man were shame. 

And stranger is a holy name ; 

Guidance and rest, and food and fire 

In vain he never must require. 

Then rest thee here till dawn of day ; 

Myself will guide thee on the way, 

O'er stock and stone, through watch and ward, 

Till past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard, 



The Lady of the Lake, 



As far as Coilantogle's ford ; 
From thence thy warrant is thy sword." 
** I take thy courtesy, by Heaven, 
As freely as 't is nobly given ! " — 
" Well, rest thee ; for the bittern's cry 
Sings us the lake's wild lullaby." 
With that he shook the gather'd heath. 
And spread his plaid upon the wreath ; 
And the brave foemen, side by side, 
Lay peaceful down like brothers tried, 
And slept until the dawning beam 
Purpled the mountain and the stream. 



CANTO FIFTH. 

The Combat. 

I. 

Fair as the earliest beam of eastern light, 

When first by the bewilder'd pilgrim spied 
It smiles upon the dreary brow of night, 

And silvers o'er the torrent's foaming tide, 
And lights the fearful path on mountain side ;— 

Fair as that beam, although the fairest far, 
Giving to horror grace, to danger pride. 

Shine martial Faith, and Courtesy's bright 
star, 
Through all the wreckful storms that cloud the 
brow of War. 



II. 

That early beam, so fair and sheen, 
W^as twinkling through the hazel screen, 
When, rousing at its glimmer red. 
The warriors left their lowly bed, 
Look'd out upon the dappled sky, 
Mutter'd their soldier matins by. 
And then awaked their fire, to steal, 
As short and rude, their soldier meal. 



The Lady of the Lake. 183 

That o'er, the Gael around him threw 
His graceful plaid of varied hue, 
And true to promise, led the way, 
By thicket green and mountain gray. 
A wildering path ! — they winded now 
Along the precipice's brow, 
Commanding the rich scenes beneath, 
The windings of the Forth and Teith, 
And all the vales between that lie. 
Till Stirling's turrets melt in sky ; 
Then, sunk in copse, their farthest glance 
Gain'd not the length of horseman's lance. 
'T was oft so steep, the foot was fain 
Assistance from the hand to gain ; 
So tangled oft, that bursting through, 
Each hawthorn shed her showers of dew, — 
That diamond dew, so pure and clear, 
It rivals ail but Beauty's tear. 

III. 

At length they came where, stern and steep. 
The hill sinks down upon the deep. 
Here Vennachar in silver flows. 
There, ridge on ridge, Iknledi rose ; 
I'Lvcr the hollow \i-A\\\ twined on, 
Beneath steep bank and threatening slonc ; 
An hundred men might hold the post 
With hardihood against a host. 
The rugged mountain's scanty cloak 
Was dwarfish shrubs of birch and oak. 



184 The Lady of the Lake. 

With shingles bare, and cliffs between, 

And patches bright of bracken green. 

And heather black, that waved so high, 

It held the copse in rivalr}^ 

But where the lake slept deep and still, 

Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hill ; 

And oft both path and hill were torn, 

Where wintry torrents down had borne, 

And heaped upon the cumbered land 

Its wreck of gravel, rocks, and sand. 

So toilsome was the road to trace, 

The guide abating of his pace, 

Led slowly through the pass's jaws, 

And ask'd Fitz-James by what strange cause 

He sought these wilds traversed by few. 

Without a pass from Roderick Dhu. 

IV. 

*' Brave Gael, my pass in danger tried, 
Hangs in my belt, and by my side ; 
Yet, sooth to tell," the Saxon said, 
** I dreamt not now to claim its aid. 
When here, but three days since, I came, 
Bewilder'd in pursuit of game. 
All seem'd as peaceful and as still, 
As the mist slumbering on yon hill ; 
Thy dangerous chief was then afar, 
Nor soon expected back from war. 
Thus said, at least, my mountain-guide. 
Though deep perchance the villain lied." 



The Lady of the Lake. 185 

** Yet why a second venture try ? " — 
" A warrior thou, and ask me why ! — 
Moves our free course by such fix'd cause 
As gives the poor mechanic laws? 
Enough, I sought to drive away 
The lazy hours of peaceful day ; 
Slight cause will then suffice to guide 
A Knight's free footsteps far and wide, — 
A falcon flown, a greyhound stray'd, 
The merry glance of mountain maid : 
Or, if a path be dangerous known, 
The danger's self is lure alone." 



V. 

" Thy secret keep, I urge thee not ; — 
Yet, ere again ye sought this spot, 
Say, heard ye not of Lowland war, 
Against Clan-Alpine, rais'd by Mar ? " 
— ** No, by my word ; — of bands prepared 
To guard King James's sports I heard ; 
Nor doubt I aught, but, when they hear 
This muster of the mountaineer. 
Their pennons will abroad be flung. 
Which else in Doune had peaceful hung. '- 
" Free be they Hung ! for we were loth 
Their silken fold should feast the moth. 
Free be they Hung ! — as free shall wave 
Clan-Alpine's pine in bannor bravo. 
lUit, Stranger, peaceful since you came. 
Bevvilder'd in the mountain game, 



iS6 ITu LaJr fif ih£ Lake. 



Alda Alpme's Tow'd and mona! foe ? "" — 
** Wairior, bosl: ^lestier-aioiFa, I knew 
Xan^lii: of thy Chiefitaiii, Rodeirkk Dhio. 
Sa¥€ as an oadaw"d despeirate man, 
Ttie daief of a rdielioiis dan, 
Who in the R<^en£ s cooit and s%fat. 
With ruffian d^^^oer stabbed a Luigfai ; 
Yet thb akioe ni%l^ finotn his part 
Seller each tnie and loval heait.'" 



Wf^aihfiGiI at sncii arra^iinient fooL 
I>ark lowered the dansnaan s sabUe sooirl 
A i^pace he passed, then saemlysaMJL 
*" And beaid'st thoa why he dmeis' his bSade? 
Heaid'st shoo that shamdol woffd and blow 
BFongtA Roderic^^s i:^iagea2a'oe on has foe ? 
What leckM the Chieftain if he stood 
On Highlaaid heath, or Holy-Rood ? 
He rights sodi wroi^ wheie it is gii^en. 
If it were in the court of heamen.'" — 
"^ Sdfl was k outra^ ; — yet, 't is true, 
Xot then cJannVl soi«e^nty his due ; 
^Mr^f A!baiay, with feeble hand, 
H ^'d truncheon of command, 

T ' :: mew'cl in Stir^i^ tower, 

V r??5iect and power. 

i-in's robber life ! — 
-^ - , I . bf cai^dess strife. 



77/<f Lady of the Lake. 



.87 



Wrenching from ruin'd Lowland swain 
His herds and harvest rear'd in vain.— 
Methinks a soul like thine should scorn 
The spoils from such foul foray borne." 

VII. 

The Gael beheld him grim the while, 
And answered with disdainful smile, — 
" Saxon, from yonder mountain high, 
I mark'd thee send delighted eye, 



M 




Hoi.v-Rooi). 



Far to the south and cast, where lay. 
Kxtcndcd in suiHX'ssion gav. 
Deep waving fields and pastures green, 
With gentle sl()i)es rmd groves l^etween : 
These fci-lilc plains, th.ii sofu-u'd \ali'. 
Were once the l)iilhi-i«'hl of the (iacl; 



The Lady of the Lake. 



The stranger came with iron hand, 

And from our fathers reft the land. 

Where dwell we now ! See rudely swell 

Crag over crag, and fell o'er fell. 

Ask we this savage hill we tread. 

For fatten'd steer or household bread ; 

Ask we for flocks these shingles dry, 

And well the mountain might reply, — 

* To you, as to your sires of yore. 

Belong the target and claymore ! 

I give you shelter in my breast, 

Your own good blades must win the rest.' 

Pent in this fortress of the North, 

Think'st thou we will not sally forth. 

To spoil the spoiler as we may. 

And from the robber rend the prey ? 

Ay, by my soul ! — While on yon plain 

The Saxon rears one shock of grain ; 

While, of ten thousand herds, there strays 

But one along yon river's maze, — 

The Gael, of plain and river heir. 

Shall, with strong hand, redeem his share. 

Where live the mountain Chiefs who hold. 

That plundering Lowdand field and fold 

Is aught but retribution true } 

Seek other cause 'gainst Roderick Dhu." — 



VIII. 

Answer'd Fitz James, — *• And, if I sought, 
Think'st thou no other could be brought .^ 



The Lady of the Lake. 189 

What deem ye of my path waylaid ? 

My life given o'er to ambuscade ? " — 

" As of a meed to rashness due : 

Hadst thou sent warning fair and true, — 

I seek my hound, or falcon stray'd, 

I seek, good faith, a Highland maid, — 

Free hadst thou been to come and go. 

But secret path marks secret foe. 

Nor yet, for this, even as a spy, 

Hadst thou, unheard, been doom'd to die, 

Save to fulfil an augury." — 

" Well, let it pass ; nor will I now 

Fresh cause of enmity avow. 

To chafe thy mood and cloud thy brow. 

Enough, I am by promise tied 

To match me with this man of pride : 

Twice have I sought Clan- Alpine's glen 

In peace ; but when I come agen, 

I come with banner, brand, and bow, 

As leader seeks his mortal foe. 

For love-lorn swain, in lady's bower, 

Ne'er panted for the appointed hour, 

As I, until before me stand 

This rebel Chieftain and his band ! " 



IX. 

*' Have, then, thy wish ! " — he whistled shrill, 
And he was answer'd from the hill ; 
Wild as the scream of the curlew, 
From crag to crag the signal tlcw. 



190 



The Lady of the Lake, 



Instant, through copse and heath, arose 
Bonnets and spears and bended bows : 
On right, on left, above, below, 
Sprung up at once the lurking foe ; 




This rock shall fly from its firm base as soon as I. 



From shingles gray their lances start, 
The bracken brush sends forth the dart, 



The Lady of the Lake. 191 

The rushes and the willow-wand 

Are bristling into axe and brand, 

And every tuft of broom gives life 

To plaided warrior arm'd for strife. 

That whistle garrison'd the glen 

At once with full five hundred men, 

As if the yawning hill to heaven 

A subterranean host had given. 

Watehing their leader's beck and will. 

As silent there they stood, and still. 

Like the loose crags whose threatening mass 

Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass, 

As if an infant's touch could urge 

Their headlong passage down the verge, 

With step and weapon forward flung, 

Upon the mountain-side they hung. 

The Mountaineer cast glance of pride 

Along Benledi's living side, 

Then fix'd his eye and sable brow 

Full on Fitz-James — *' How say'st thou now } 

These are Clan-Alpine's warriors true ; 

And, Saxon, — I am Roderick Dhu ! " 



X. 

\_y Fitz-James was brave : — Though to his heart 
The life-blood thrill'd with sudden start, 
He mann'd himself with dauntless air, 
Keturn'd the Chief his haughty stare, 
His back against a rock lu- bore, 
And firmly |")lacrd his fool before : — 



192 The Lady of the Lake, 

"■ Come one, come all ! this rock shall fly 

From its firm base as soon as I." 

Sir Roderick mark'd — and in his eyes 

Respect was mingled with surprise, 

And the stern joy which warriors feel 

In foemen worthy of their steel. 

Short space he stood — then waved his hand ; 

Down sunk the disappearing band ; 

Each warrior vanish'd where he stood. 

In broom or bracken, heath or wood ; 

Sunk brand and spear and bended bow, 

In osiers pale and copses low 

It seem'd as if their mother Earth 

Had swallow'd up her warlike birth, 

The wind's last breath had toss'd in air, 

Pennon, and plaid, and plumage fair, — 

The next but swept a lone hill-side. 

Where heath and fern were waving wide ; 

The sun's last glance was glinted back, 

From spear and glaive, from targe and jack,— 

The next, all unreflected, shone 

On bracken green, and cold gray stone. 



XL 

Fitz-James look'd round — yet scarce believed 
The witness that his sight received ; 
Such apparition well might seem 
Delusion of a dreadful dream. 
Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed, 
And to his look the Chief replied. 



The Lady of the Lake. 193 

" Fear naught — nay, that I need not say — 

But — doubt not aught from mine array. 

Thou art my guest ; — I pledged my word 

As far as Coilantogle ford : 

Nor would I call a clansman's brand 

For aid against one valiant hand, 

Though on our strife lay every vale 

Rent by the Saxon from the Gael. 

So move we on ; —I only meant 

To show the reed on which you leant. 

Deeming this path you might pursue 

Without a pass from Roderick Dhu." 

They moved : — I said Fitz-James was brave, 

As ever knight that belted glaive ; 

Yet dare not say, that now his blood 

Kept on its wont and temper'd flood, 

As, following Roderick's stride, he drew 

That seeming lonesome pathway through, 

Which yet, by fearful proof, was rife 

With lances, that, to take his life, 

Waited but signal from a guide. 

So late dishonor'd and defied. 

Ever, by stealth, his eye sought round 

The vanish'd guardians of the ground. 

And still, from copse and heather deep. 

Fancy saw spear and broadsword peep 

And in the plover's shrilly strain. 

The signal whistle heard again. 

Nor breathed lu- free till far hthiiul 

The pass was left ; for llun they wind 



194 '^^^^ Lady of the Lake. 

Along a wide and level green. 
Where neither tree nor turf was seen, 
Nor rush nor bush of broom was near, 
To hide a bonnet, or a spear. 



XII. 

The Chief in silence strode before, 

And reach'd that torrent's sounding shore. 

Which, daughter of three mighty lakes, 

From Vennachar in silver breaks. 

Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless mines 

On Bochastle the mouldering lines, 

Where Rome, the Empress of the world. 

Of yore her eagle wings unfurl'd. 

And here his course the Chieftain staid, 

Threw down his target and his plaid, 

And to the Lowland warrior said : — 

" Bold Saxon I to his promise just, 

Vich- Alpine has discharged his trust. 

This murderous Chief, this ruthless man, 

This head of a rebellious clan. 

Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward. 

Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard. 

Now, man to man, and steel to steel, 

A Chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel. 

See here, all vantageless I stand, 

Arm'd like thyself, with single brand : 

For this is Coilantogle ford. 

And thou must keep thee with thy sword." — 



The Lady of the Lake, 



195 



XIII. 

The Saxon paused : " I ne'er delay'd, 
When foeman bade me draw my blade ; 
Nay, more, brave Chief, I vowed thy death : 
Yet sure thy fair and generous faith, 
And my deep debt for life preserved, 
A better meed have well deserved ; 




Coll.AN ItX.I.K Kt)KI). 



Can naui^ht but blood our ft-ud atone? 
Arc there no means? " — ** No. Strani^cr. iionr 
And here,— to fire ihy llaiii^i^inj;- /cal, — 
Tile Saxon cause rests on thy steel ; 



196 The Lady of the Lake. 




■^■pTV 




And thou aitst kef.p thee with thv sword. 



The Lady of the Lake. 197 

For thus spoke Fate, by prophet bred 

Between the Hving and the dead ; 

* Who spills the foremost foeman's life, 

His party conquers in the strife.' " — 

" Then, by my word," the Saxon said, 

** The riddle is already read. 

Seek yonder brake beneath the cliff, — 

There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stiff. 

Thus Fate has solved her prophecy, 

Then yield to Fate, and not to me. 

To James, at Stirling, let us go, 

When, if thou wilt be still his foe, 

Or if the King shall not agree 

To grant thee grace and favor free, 

I plight mine honor, oath and word, 

That to thy native strengths restored, 

With each advantage shalt thou stand. 

That aids thee now to guard thy land." 

XIV. 

Dark lightning flashed from Roderick's eye — 
** Soars thy presumption, then, so high, 
Because a wretched kern ye slew. 
PTomage to name of Roderick Dim? 
He yields not, he, to man nor Fate ! 
Thou add'st but fuel to my hate : — 
My clansmrm's blood detnands rcxcngc. 
.Not yet prepared ? — By heaven. 1 change 
My thought, and hold thy valor light 
As that of some vain carpet knight. 



198 



The Lady of the Lake, 



Who ill deserved my courteous care, 
And whose best boast is but to wear 
A braid of his fair lady's hair." — 
— *' I thank thee, Roderick, for the word ! 
It nerves my heart, it steels my sword ; 
For I have sworn this braid to stain 
In the best blood that warms thy vein. 
Now, truce, farewell ! and, ruth, begone !- 
Yet think not that by thee alone, 







There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stiff. 



Proud Chief ! can courtesy be shown ; 
Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn, 
Start at my whistle clansmen stern, 
Of this small horn one feeble blast 
Would fearful odds against thee cast. 



The Lady of the Lake, 199 

But fear not — doubt not — which thou wilt — 
We try this quarrel hilt to hilt." 
Then each at once his falchion drew% 
Each on the ground his scabbard threw, 
Each look'd to sun, and stream, and plain. 
As what they ne'er might see again ; 
Then foot, and point, and eye opposed. 
In dubious strife they darkly closed. 



XV. 

Ill fared it then with Roderick Dhu, 
That on the field his targe he threw, 
Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide 
Had death so often dashed aside ; 
For, train'd abroad his arms to wield, 
Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield. 
He practised every pass and ward, 
To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard ; 
While less expert, though stronger far, 
The Gael maintain'd unequal war. 
Three times in closing strife they stood, 
And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood ; 
No stinted draught, no scanty tide, 
The gushing flood the tartans dyed. 
Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain. 
And showcr'd his blows like wintry r.iin ; 
And, as firm rock, or castlc-roof, 
Against the winter shower is pi-oof. 
'i'hc foe, invuhuM'ablc still, 
Foil'd his wild rage by steady skill ; 



2 00 The Lady of the Lake. 

Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand 
Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand, 
And backward borne upon the lea, 
Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee. 



XVI. 

" Now, yield thee, or by Him who made 
The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade I 
*' Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy ! 
Let recreant yield, who fears to die." 
— Like adder darting from his coil. 
Like wolf that dashes through the toil, 
Like mountain-cat who guards her young, 
Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung ; 
Received, but reck'd not of a wound, 
And lock'd his arms his foeman round. — 
Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own ! 
No maiden's hand is round thee thrown I 
That desperate grasp thy frame might feel. 
Through bars of brass and triple steel I — 
They tug, they strain ! dow^n, down they go, 
The Gael above, Fitz-James below. 
The Chieftain's gripe his throat compress'd, 
His knee was planted on his breast ; 
His clotted locks he backward threw 
Across his brow his hand he drew, 
From blood and mist to clear his sight, 
Then gleamed aloft his dagger bright ! — 
— But hate and fury ill supplied 
The stream of life's exhausted tide, 



The Lady of the Lake. 



201 



And all too late the advantage came, 
To turn the odds of deadly game ; 
For, while the dagger gleam'd on high, 
Reel'd soul and sense, reel'd brain and eye. 
Down came the blow ! but in the heath 
The erring blade found bloodless sheath. 
The struggling foe may now unclasp 
The fainting Chief's relaxing grasp ; 
Unwounded from the dreadful close, 
But breathless all, Fitz-James arose. 



v^ 




The ekking blade found iu. godless sheath. 



W'll. 

lie faltcr'd lliauks to Heaven for life. 
Redeeni'd, unhoped, from despciale strife ; 
Next on his foe his look he cast, 
Whose every gasp appeared his last ; 



2 02 21ie Lady of the Lake. 

In Roderick's gore he dipt the braid, — 

** Poor Blanche ! thy wrongs are dearly paid 

Yet with thy foe must die, or live. 

The praise that Faith and Valor give." 

With that he blew a bugle-note, 

Undid the collar from his throat, 

Unbonneted, and by the wave 

Sate down his brow and hands to lave. 



Whose every gasp appeared his last. 

Then faint afar are heard the feet 
Of rushing steeds in gallop fleet ; 
The sounds increase, and now are seen 
Four mounted squires in Lincoln green ; 
Two who bear lance, and two who lead, 
By loosen'd rein, a saddled steed ; 
Each onward held his headlong course. 
And by Fitz-James rein'd up his horse. 



The Lady of the Lake. 203 

With wonder viewed the bloody spot — 

— ** Exclaim not, gallants I question not. — 

You, Herbert and Luffness, alight, 

And bind the wounds of yonder knight ; 

Let the gray palfrey bear his weight, 

We destined for a fairer freight, 

And bring him on to Stirling straight ; 

1 will before at better speed. 

To seek fresh horse and fitting weed. 

The sun rides high ; — I must be boune, 

To see the archer game at noon ; 

But lightly Bayard clears the lea. — 

De Vaux and Herries, follow me." 

XVIII. 

" Stand, Bayard, stand ! " — the steed obey'd, 

With arching neck and bended head, 

And glancing eye and quivering ear, 

As if he loved his lord to hear. 

No foot Fitz-James in stirrup staid, 

No grasp upon the saddle laid, 

But wreath'd his left hand in the mane, 

And lightly bounded from the plain, 

Turn'd on the horse his armed heel. 

And stirr'd his courage with the steel. 

Bounded the fiery steed in air. 

The rider sate erect and fair, 

Then like a bolt from steel crossbow 

l'\)rth launch'd, along the |)lain they go. 

They dash'd that ra|)i(l curreiU throui^h. 

And up C'arhonic's hill they lU-w ; 



2 04 



The Lady of the Lake. 



Still at the gallop prick'd the Knight, 
His merry-men follow'd as they might. 
Along thy banks, swift Teith ! they ride, 
And in the race they mock thy tide ; 
Torry and Lendrick now are past, 
And Deanstown lies behind them cast ; 




Bounded the fiery steed in air. 



They rise, the banner'd towers of Doune, 
They sink in distant woodland soon ; 
Blair-Drummond sees the hoofs strike fire, 
They sweep like breeze through Ochtertyre ; 



The Lady of the Lake. 



They mark, just glance and disappear 
The lofty brow of ancient Kier ; 
They bathe their courser's sweltering sides. 
Dark Forth ! amid thy sluggish tides. 
And on the opposing shore take ground, 
With plash, with scramble, and with bound. 
Right-hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig-Forth ! 
And soon the bulwark of the North, 
Gray Stirling, with her towers and town, 
Upon their tieet career look'd down. 




DOUNE. 



XIX. 

As up the flinty path they strain'd, 

Sudden his steed the leader rcin'd ; 

A signal to his squire he flung. 

Who instant to his stirrup sprung : — 

" Seest thou, De Vaux, yon woodsman gray, 

Who town-ward holds the rocky wav, 

Of stature tall and [XJor arrav ? 



>o6 



I'lie Lady of the Lake, 





Gray Stirling. 



Mark'st thou the firm, yet active stride, 
With which he scales the mountain-side ? 
Know'st thou from whence he comes, or 

w^hom ? " 
** No, by my word ; — a burly groom 
He seems, who in the field or chase 
A baron's train would nobly grace." — 
" Out, out, De Vaux ! can fear supply, 
And jealousy, no sharper eye ? 
Afar, ere to the hill he drew, 
That stately form and step I knew ; 



21ie Lady of the Lake, 207 

Like form in Scotland is not seen, 

Treads not such step on Scottish green. 

'T is James of Douglas, by Saint Serle ! 

The uncle of the banished Earl. 

Away, away, to court, to show 

The near approach of dreaded foe : 

The King must stand upon his guard ; 

Douglas and he must meet prepared." 

Then right-hand wheel'd their steeds, and 

straight 
They won the castle's postern gate. 

XX. 

The Douglas, who had bent his way 

From Cambus-Kenneth's abbey gray, 

Now, as he climb'd the rocky shelf, 

Held sad communion with himself : 

** Yes ! all is true my fears could frame; 

A prisoner lies the noble Graeme, 

And fiery Roderick soon will feel 

The vengeance of the royal steel. 

I, only I, can ward their fate, — 

God grant the ransom come not late ! 

The Abbess hath her promise given. 

My child shall be the bride of Heaven ; — 

— Be pardon 'd one repining tear ! 

For He, who gave her, knows how dear, 

How excellent ! but that is by. 

And now my business is — to die. 

— Ye towers ! within whose circuit dread 

A Douglas by his sovereign bled ; 



2 08 



The Lady of the Lake. 



And thou, O sad and fatal mound ! 
That oft has heard the death-axe sound, 
As on the noblest of the land 
Fell the stern headsman's bloody hand, — 




They v/on the castle"s postern gate. 

The dungeon, block, and nameless tomb 
Prepare — for Douglas seeks his doom ! 
— But hark ! what blithe and jolly peal 
Makes the Franciscan steeple reel ? 



The Lady of the Lake, 209 

And see ! upon the crowded street, 
In motley groups what masquers meet ! 




>vn:. 






i. 



^ vn -^ 



,^ 



""S^-^w 



What lu.miK and juli.y pkal makks ihi', Fkanciscan 

STEEl'LE KliKL? 



Banner and pageant, pi[)c and chum, 
And merry morrice-danccrs (H)nic. 



2IO The Lady of the Lake, 

I guess, by all this quaint array, 

The burghers hold their sports to-day, 

James will be there ; he loves such show, 

Where the good yeoman bends his bow, 

And the tough wrestler foils his foe. 

As w^ell as where, in proud career. 

The high-born tilter shivers spear. 

I'll follow^ to the Castle-park, 

And play my prize ; — King James shall mark. 

If age has tamed these sinews stark, 

Whose force so oft, in happier days. 

His boyish wonder loved to praise." 

XXL 

The Castle gates were open flung. 

The quivering drawbridge rock'd and rung. 

And echo'd loud the flinty street 

Beneath the coursers' clattering feet. 

As slowly down the steep descent 

Fair Scotland's King and nobles went. 

While all along the crowded way 

Was jubilee and loud huzza. 

And ever James was bending low, 

To his white jennet's saddle-bow. 

Doffing his cap to city dame. 

Who smiled and blushed for pride and shame, 

And well the simperer might be vain, — 

He chose the fairest of the train. 

Gravely he greets each city sire. 

Commends each pageant's quaint attire, 



The Lady of the Lake. 211 




'4 






> 





f J< 




Faiu Si »)I lands Kinc; anu noiu.ks nvknt. 



212 The Lady of the Lake, 

Gives to the dancers thanks aloud, 
And smiles and nods upon the crowd, 
Who rend the heavens with their acclaims, 
** Long live the Commons' King, King James ! ' 
Behind the King throng'd peer and knight. 
And noble dame and damsel bright. 
Whose fiery steeds ill brook'd the stay 
Of the steep street and crowded way. 
— But in the train you might discern 
Dark lowering brow and visage stern ; 
There nobles mourn'd their pride restrain'd 
And the mean burgher's joys disdain'd ; 
And chiefs, who, hostage for their clan, 
Were each from home a banish'd man. 
There thought upon their own gray tower, 
Their waving woods, their feudal power. 
And deem'd themselves a shameful part 
Of pageant w^hich they cursed in heart. 



XXII. 

Now, in the Castle-park drew out 
Their checker'd bands the joyous rout. 
There morricers, with bell at heel, 
And blade in hand, their mazes wheel ; 
But chief, beside the butts, there stand 
Bold Robin Hood and all his band, — 
Friar Tuck with quarterstaff and cowl, 
Old Scathelocke with his surly scowl, 
Maid Marion, fair as ivory bone, 
Scarlet, and Mutch, and Little John ; 



The Lady of the Lake, 



^13 



Their bugles challenge all that will, 
In archery to prove their skill. 
The Douglas bent a bow of might, — 
His first shaft centered in the white, 




1. 1) Ror.iN Hood and all 

ills UANU. 



And when in turn he 
shot again, 

His second split the 

first m twain, 
'^roni the King's 
hand must Doug- 
las take 

A silver dart, tiie 
archer's stake ; 



r'ondly he walch'd with watery eye, 
Sonu- answering glance of sympathy, 
No kind emotion m:ide reply ! 



214 The Lady of the Lake. 

Indifferent as to archer wight, 

The monarch gave the arrow bright. 

XXIII 

Now, clear the ring ! for, hand to hand, 
The manly wrestlers take their stand. 
Two o'er the rest superior rose, 
And proud demanded mightier foes, 
Nor call'd in vain ; for Douglas came. 
— For life is Hugh of Larbert lame ; 
Scarce better John of Alloa's fare. 
Whom senseless home his comrades bear. 
Prize of the wrestling match, the King 
To Douglas gave a golden ring. 
While coldly glanced his e3^e of blue, 
As frozen drop of wintry dew. 
Douglas would speak, but in his breast 
His struggling soul his words suppress'd ; 
Indignant then he turn'd him where 
Their arms the brawny yeomen bare, 
To hurl the massive bar in air. 
When each his utmost strength had shown. 
The Douglas rent an earth- fast stone 
From its deep bed, then heaved it high, 
And sent the fragment through the sky, 
A rood beyond the farthest mark ; — 
And still in Stirling's royal park. 
The gray-hair'd sires, who know the past. 
To strangers point the Douglas-cast, 
And moralize on the decay 
Of Scottish strength in modern day. 



The Lady of the Lake, 2 1 



XXIV. 

The vale with loud applauses rang", 
The Ladies* Rock sent back the clang. 




THK DoP(;i.AS KI-NT AN KAKTII- 
KAST SIONK !• UDM US DKHP m:i). 



2i6 The Lady of the Lake. 




The Lady of the Lake. 



217 



The King, with look unmov'd, bestow'd 
A purse well fiU'd with pieces broad. 
Indignant smiled the Douglas proud, 
And threw the gold among the crowd, 
Who now, with anxious wonder scan, 
And sharper glance the dark gray man ; 
Till whispers rose among the throng, 
That heart so free and hand so strong, 
Must to the Douglas blood belong ; 
The old men mark'd, and shook the head. 
To see his hair with silver spread, 




The Ladiks' Kock'. 



And wink'd aside, and told each son, 
Of feats upon the English done, 
Ere Douglas of the stalwart hand 
Was exiled from his native land. 
The women prais'd his stately form. 
Though wreck'd by many a winter's storm ; 
The youth with awe and wonder saw 
His strength surpassing Nature's law. 



2i8 The Lady of the Lake, 

Thus judged, as is their wont, the crowd, 
Till murmur rose to clamors loud. 
But not a glance from that proud ring 
Of peers who circled round the King, 
With Douglas held communion kind. 
Or call'd the banish'd man to mind ; 
No, not from those, who at the chase, 
Once held his side the honor'd place. 
Begirt his board, and in the field. 
Found safety underneath his shield ; 
For he, whom royal eyes disown. 
When was his form to courtiers known ! 



XXV. 

The monarch saw the gambols flag, 
And bade let loose a gallant stag, 
Whose pride the holiday to crown. 
Two favorite greyhounds should pull down, 
That venison free, and Bordeaux wine. 
Might serve the archery to dine. 
But Lufra, — whom from Douglas' side 
Nor bribe nor threat, could ere divide 
The fleetest hound in all the North, — 
Brave Lufra saw, and darted forth. 
She left the royal hounds mid-way, 
And dashing on the antler'd prey. 
Sunk her sharp muzzle in his flank. 
And deep the flowing life-blood drank. 
The King's stout huntsman saw the sport, 
Bv strano^e intruder broken short, 



The Lady of the Lake. 2 1 9 

Came up, and, with his leash unbound, 

In anger struck the noble hound. 

— The Douglas had endured, that morn, 

The King's cold look, the nobles' scorn. 

And last and worst to spirit proud. 

Had borne the pity of the crowd ; 

But Lufra had been fondly bred, 

To share his board, to watch his bed, 

And oft would Ellen, Lufra's neck 

In maiden glee with garlands deck ; 

They were such playmates, that with name 

Of Lufra, Ellen's image came. 

His stifled wrath is brimming high, 

In darken 'd brow and flashing eye ; 

As waves before the bark divide. 

The crowd gave way before his stride ; 

Needs but a buffet and no more, 

The groom lies senseless in his gore. 

Such blow no other hand could deal. 

Though gauntleted in glove of steel. 

XXVI. 

Then clamor'd loud the royal train, 
And brandish 'd swords and staves amain. 
But stern the Baron's warning — " Bark ! 
liack, on your lives, ye menial pack I 
Beware the Douglas. — Yes! behold, 
King James ! The Douglas, doom'd of old, 
And vainly sought for near and far. 
A victim to atone the war, 



220 



The Lady of the Lake. 



A willing victim, now attends, 
Nor craves thy grace but for his friends. "- 
" Thus is my clemency repaid ? 
Presumptuous Lord ! " the ^Monarch said; 
" Of thy mis-proud ambitious clan, 
Thou, James of Both well, wert the man. 




In anger struck the noble hound. 



The only man, in whom a foe 
My woman-mercy would not know : 
But shall a Monarch's presence brook 
Injurious blow, and haughty look ? — 
What ho I The Captain of our Guard ! 
Give the offender fittino: ward. — 



llie Lady of the Lake, 221 




Yks! iU'Iioii), Kinc. jxMis! nil' D.hcm.as, poom i> of oi h ! 



222 The Lady of the Lake. 

Break off the sports I" — for tumult rose. 
And yeomen 'gan to bend their bows, — 
"Break off the sports I " — he said, and frown'd, 
*' And bid our horsemen clear the ground." 

XXVII. 

Then uproar wild and misarray 
Marr'd the fair form of festal day. 
The horsemen prick'd among the crowd, 
Repeird by threats and insult loud ; 
To earth are borne the old and weak, 
The timorous fly. the women shriek ; 
With flint, with shaft, with staff, with bar, 
The hardier urge tumultuous war. 
At once round Douglas darkly sweep 
The royal spears in circle deep, 
And slowly scale the pathway steep : 
While on the rear in thunder pour 
The rabble with disordered roar. 
With grief the noble Douglas saw 
The Commons rise against the law, 
And to the leading soldier said, — 
*' Sir John of Hyndford I 't was my blade 
That knighthood on thy shoulder laid ; 
For that good deed, permit me then 
A word with these misguided men. 

XXVIII. 

" Hear, gentle friends I ere yet for me. 
Ye break the bands of fealtv. 



71ie Lady of the Lake. 223 

My life, my honor, and my cause, 

I tender free to Scotland's laws. 

Are these so weak as must require 

The aid of your misguided ire ? 

Or, if I suffer causeless wrong, 

Is then my selfish rage so strong, 

My sense of public weal so low, 

That, for mean vengeance on a foe, 

Those cords of love I should unbind, 

Which knit my country and my kind ? 

Oh no ! Believe in yonder tower 

It will not soothe my captive hour. 

To know those spears our foes should dread, 

For me in kindred gore are red ; 

To know, in fruitless brawl begun. 

For me, that mother wails her son ; 

For me, that widow's mate expires ; 

For me, that orphans weep their sires ; 

That patriots mourn insulted laws, 

And curse the Douglas for the cause. 

O let your patience ward such ill, 

And keep your right to love me still ! " 

XXIX. 

The crowd's wild fury sunk again 
In tears, as tcmju'sts melt in rain. 
With lifU'd hands aiul cyrs. ilu-y pray'd 
For blessings on his generous head. 
Who for his country felt alone. 
And pri/.cd her blood bcvoiid his own. 



2 24 The Lady of the Lake. 

Old men, upon the verge of life, 

Bless'd him who stayed the civil strife ; 

And mothers held their babes on high, 

The self-devoted Chief to spy, 

Triumphant over wrongs and ire. 

To whom the prattlers owed a sire : 

Even the rough soldier's heart was moved : 

As if behind some bier beloved. 

With trailing arms and drooping head, 

The Douglas up the hill he led. 

And at the castle's battled verge, 

With sighs resign'd his honor'd charge. 

XXX. 

The offended [Monarch rode apart, 
With bitter thought and swelling heart, 
And would not now vouchsafe again 
Through Stirling streets to lead his train. 
" O Lennox, who would wish to rule 
This changeling crowd, this common fool ? 
Hear'st thou," he said, " the loud acclaim 
With which they shout the Douglas name ? 
With like acclaim, the vulgar throat 
Strain'd for King James their morning note ; 
With like acclaim they hail'd the day 
W^hen first I broke the Douglas' sway ; 
And like acclaim would Douglas greet, 
If he could hurl me from my seat. 
Who o'er the herd would wish to reign. 
Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain I 



2'he Lady of the Lake. 



Vain as the leaf upon the stream, 
And fickle as a chani^eful dream ; 
Fantastic as a woman's mood, 
And fierce as Frenzy's fever'd blood. 
Thou many-headed monster thing, 
O who would wish to be thy king ! 

XXXI. 

" But soft ! what messenger of speed 
Spurs hitherward his panting steed ? 




O WHO won. I) WISH k 



I guess his cognizance afar 

What from our cousin. John of Mar ? " 

** lie prays, my licgc. your sports keep bound 

Within the safe and <'u;iriU*(l orouiul : 



226 The Lady of the Lake. 

For some foul purpose yet unknown, — 
Most sure for evil to the throne, — 
The outlaw'd Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, 
Has summon'd his rebellious crew ; 
'T is said, in James of Bothwell's aid 
These loose banditti stand array'd. 
The Earl of Mar, this morn, from Doune, 
To break their muster march'd, and soon 




What messenger of speed. 

Your grace will hear of battle fought • 
But earnestly the Earl besought. 
Till for such danger he provide, 
With scanty train you will not ride." 

XXXII. 

" Thou warn'st me I have done amiss,- 
I should have earlier looked to this : 



The Lady of the Lake. 227 

I lost it in this bustling day. 
Retrace with speed thy former way ; 
Spare not for spoiling of thy steed, 
The best of mine shall be thy meed. 
Say to our faithful Lord of Mar, 
We do forbid the intended war : 
Roderick, this morn, in single fight, 
Was made our prisoner by a knight ; 
And Douglas hath himself and cause 
Submitted to our kingdom's laws. 
The tidings of their leaders lost 
WMll soon dissolve the mountain host, 
Nor would we that the vulgar feel, 
For their Chief's crimes avenging steel. 
Bear Mar our message, Braco : fly ! " 
He turn'd his steed, — " My liege, I hie, — 
Yet, ere I cross this lily lawn, 
I fear the broadswords will be drawn." 
The turf the flying courser spurn'd, 
And to his towers the King return 'd. 

XXXIII. 

Ill with King James's mood that day, 
Suited gay feast and mitistrel lay : 
Soon were dismiss'd the courtly throng. 
And soon cut short the festal song. 
Nor less upon the saddcn'd town 
The evenmg sunk in sorrow down. 
'\\\v btirghers spoke of ci\il jar. 
Of luinor'd feuds and nionniain war. 



2 28 The Lady of the Lake. 

Of Moray, Mar, and Roderick Dhu, 
All up in arms : — the Douglas, too, 
They mourn'd him pent within the hold, 
*' Where stout Earl William was of old." 
And there his word the speaker staid, 
And finger on his lip he laid, 
Or pointed to his dagger blade. 
Bu-t jaded horsemen, from the west. 
At evening to the Castle press'd ; 
And busy talkers said they bore 
Tidings of fight on Katrine's shore ; 
At noon the deadly fray begun. 
And lasted till the set of sun. 
Thus giddy rumor shook the town. 
Till closed the Night her pennons brown. 



CANTO SIXTH. 
The Guard-Room. 

I. 

The sun, awakening, through the smoky air 

Of the dark city casts a sullen glance, 
Rousing each caitiff to his task of care, 

Of sinful man the sad inheritance ; 
Summoning revellers from the lagging dance, 

Scaring the prowling robber to his den ; 
Gilding on battled tower the warder's lance. 

And warning student pale to leave his pen, 
And yield his drowsy eyes to the kind nurse of 
men. 

What various scenes, and, O ! what scenes of 
woe. 
Are witness'd by that red and struggling 
beam ! 
The fever'd patient, from his pallet low. 

Through crowded hospital beholds its stream ; 
The ruin'd maiden trembles at its gleam, 

The debtor wakes to thought of gyve and 
jail. 
'Hie love-lorn wretch starts from tormenlin*^ 
dream ; 



230 The Lady of the Lake. 

The wakeful mother, by the glimmering pale, 
Trims her sick infant's couch, and soothes his 
feeble wail. 



II. 

At dawn the towers of Stirling rang 

With soldier-step and weapon-clang, 

While drums, with rolling note, foretell 

Relief to weary sentinel. 

Through narrow loop and casement barr'd, 

The sunbeams sought the Court of Guard, 

And, struggling with the smoky air, 

Deaden'd the torches' yellow glare. 

In comfortless alliance shone 

The lights through arch of blacken'd stone, 

And show'd wild shapes in garb of war, 

Faces deformed with beard and scar, 

All haggard from the midnight watch, 

And fever'd with the stern debauch ; 

For the oak table's massive board, 

Flooded with wine, with fragments stored. 

And beakers drain'd, and cups o'erthrown, 

Show'd in what sport the night had flown. 

Some, weary, snored on floor and bench ; 

Some labor'd still their thirst to quench ; 

Some, chill'd with watching, spread their hands 

O'er the huge chimney's dying brands. 

While round them, or beside them flung. 

At every step their harness rung. 



The Lady of the Lake, 231 



111. 

These drew not for their lields the sword, 

Like tenants of a feudal lord, 

Nor own'd the patriarchal claim. 

Of Chieftain in their leader's name; 

Adventurers they, from far who roved, 

To live by battle which they loved. 

There the Italian's clouded face, 

The swarthy Spaniard's there you trace ; 

The mountain-loving Svvitzer there 

More freely breathed in mountain-air ; 

The Fleming there despised the soil, 

That paid so ill the laborer's toil ; 

Their rolls show'd French and German name ; 

And merry England's exiles came, 

To share, with ill-conceal'd disdain, 

Of Scotland's pay the scanty gain. 

All brave in arms, well train'd to wield 

The heavy halberd, brand and shield ; 

In camps licentious, wild, and bold ; 

In pillage fierce and uncontroH'd ; 

And now, by holy tide and feast, 

From rules of discipline released. 

IV. 

They held debate of bloodx' frav. 
l*'()Ui;Iit 'twixt Loch Katrine and Achi'av. 
I''ici-(\! was their speech, and. 'mid their words 
riuir hands oft grappled to their swords; 



232 The Lady of the Lake. 

Nor sunk their tone to spare the ear 

Of wounded comrades groaning near, 

Whose mangled limbs, and bodies gored, 

Bore token of the mountain sword, 

Though neighboring to the Court of Guard, 

Their prayers and feverish wails were heard ; 

Sad burden to the rufihan joke. 

And savage oath by fury spoke ! — 

At length up started John of Brent, 

A yeoman from the banks of Trent ; 

A stranger to respect or fear, 

In peace a chaser of the deer, 

In host a hardy mutineer, 

But still the boldest of the crew. 

When deed of danger was to do. 

He grieved, that day, their games cut short. 

And marr'd the dicer's brawling sport, 

And shouted loud, *' Renew the bowl ! 

And, while a merry catch I trowl, 

Let each the buxom chorus bear. 

Like brethren of the brand and spear/* 

V. 

soldier's song. 

Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule 
Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny 

brown bowl : 
That there's wrath and despair in the jolly 

black-jack. 
And the seven deadly sins in a flagon of sack ; 



The Lady of the Lake. 







SoIDIKk's S(>N(] 



234 The Lady of the Lake. 



Yet whoop, Barnaby ! off with thy liquor. 
Drink upsees out, and a fig for the vicar ! 

Our vicar he calls it damnation to sip 
The ripe ruddy dew of a woman's dear lip, 
Says, that Beelzebub lurks in her kerchief so 

sly. 
And Apollyon shoots darts from her merry 

black eye ; 
Yet whoop. Jack ! kiss Gillian the quicker, 
Till she bloom like a rose, and a fig for the 



Our vicar thus preaches — and w^hy should he 

not ? 
For the dues of his cure are the placket and 

pot ; 
And 't is right of his office poor laymen to lurch. 
Who infringe the domains of our good Mother 

Church. 
Yet whoop, bully-boys ! off with your liquor, 
Sweet Marjorie's the word, and a fig for the 

vicar ! 

VI. 

The warder's challenge, heard without. 

Staid in mid-roar the merry shout. 

A soldier to the portal went, — 

" Here is old Bertram, sirs, of Ghent ; 

And, — beat for jubilee the drum ! 

A maid and minstrel with him come." 



The Lady of the Lake. 235 

Bertram, a Fleming, gray and scarr'd, 

Was entering now the Court of Guard, 

A harper with him, and, in plaid 

All muffled close, a mountain maid. 

Who backward shrank to 'scape the view 

Of the loose scene and boisterous crew. 

" What news ? " they roar'd : " I only know, 

From noon till eve we fought with foe, 

As wild and as untameable 

As the rude mountains where they dwell : 

On both sides store of blood is lost. 

Nor much success can either boast." — 

** But whence thy captives, friend } such spoil 

As theirs must needs reward thy toil. 

Old dost thou wax, and wars grow sharp ; 

Thou now hast glee-maiden and harp ! 

Get thee an ape, and trudge the land, 

The leader of a juggler band." — 

VII. 

" No, comrade ; — no such fortune mine. 
After the hght these sought our line. 
That aged harper and the girl, 
And, having audience of the r'arl, 
Mar bade I should purvey them steed. 
And bring them hitherward with s[)eed. 
Forbear your mirth and rude alarm. 
For none shall do them shame or harm." 
'• Hear ye his boast ? " cried (ohn of i>rc"ni. 
I'A'er to strife and jaiigliiig bent ; 



236 The Lady of the Lake. 

'' Shall he strike doe beside our lodge, 
And yet the jealous niggard grudge 
To pay the forester his fee ? 
I'll have my share howe'er it be, 
Despite of Moray, Mar, or thee." 
Bertram his forward step withstood ; 
And, burning in his vengeful mood, 
Old Allan, though unfit for strife, 
Laid hand upon his dagger-knife ; 
But Ellen boldly stepp'd between. 
And dropp'd at once the tartan screen : 
So from his morning cloud appears 
The sun of May, through summer tears. 
The savage soldiery, amazed, 
As on descended angel gazed ; 
Even hardy Brent, abash'd and tamed, 
Stood half admiring, half ashamed. 

vni. 

Boldly she spoke, — " Soldiers, attend ! 
My father was the soldier's friend ; 
Cheer'd him in camps, in marches led, 
And with him in the battle bled. 
Not from the valiant, or the strong, 
Should exile's daughter suffer wrong." — 
Answer'd De Brent, most forward still 
In every feat of good or ill, — 
" I shame me of the part I play'd : 
And thou an outlaw's child, poor maid ! 
An outlaw I by forest laws, 
And merrv Xeedwood knows the cause. 



The Lady of the Lake. 



237 



Poor Rose, — if Rose be living now," — 
He wiped his iron eye and brow, — 
" Must bear such age, I think, as thou.- 
Hear ye, my mates ; — I go to call 
The Captain of our watch to hall ; 
There lies my halberd on the floor ; 
And he that steps my halberd o'er, 
To do the maid injurious part. 
My shaft shall quiver in his heart I — 
Beware loose speech, or jesting rough : 
Ye all know John de Brent. Enough." 




There lies my halberd on the floor. 



IX. 

Their Captain came, a gallant young,- 
(Of Tullibardine's house he sprung). 
Nor wore he yet the spurs of knight ; 
Gay was his mien, his humor light. 
And, though by (M)urtcsy controll'd. 
l-'orward his spcci^h, his bearing bold. 
The high-born maiden ill could brook 
The scanning of his curious look 



238 The Lady of the Lake, 

And dauntless eye ; — and yet, in sooth, 

Young Lewis was a generous youth ; 

But Ellen's lovely face and mien, 

111 suited to the garb and scene, 

Might lightly bear construction strange. 

And give loose fancy scope to range. 

" Welcome to Stirling towers, fair maid ! 

Come ye to seek a champion's aid. 

On palfrey white, with harper hoar, 

Like errant damosel of yore ? 

Does thy high quest a knight require, 

Or may the venture suit a squire ? " — 

Her dark eye flash'd ; — she paused and 

sigh'd, — 
'* O what have I to do with pride !— 
— Through scenes of sorrow, shame, and strife 
A suppliant for a father's life, 
I crave an audience of the King. 
Behold to back my suit, a ring. 
The royal pledge of grateful claims. 
Given by the Monarch to Fitz-James." 

X. 

The signet-ring young Lewis took, 
With deep respect and alter'd look ; 
And said, — ''This ring our duties own : 
And pardon, if to w^orth unknown, 
In semblance mean obscurely veil'd, 
Lady, in aught my folly fail'd. 
Soon as the day flings wide his gates, 
The King shall know what suitor waits. 



The Lady of the Lake. 239 

Please you, meanwhile, in fitting bower 

Repose you till his waking hour ; 

Female attendants shall obey 

Your hest, for service or array. 

Permit I marshal you the way." 

But, ere she follow'd, with the grace 

And open bounty of her race. 

She bade her slender purse be shared 

Among the soldiers of the guard. 

The rest with thanks their guerdon took ; 

But Brent, with shy and awkward look. 

On the reluctant maiden's hold 

Forced bluntly back the proffer'd gold ; — 

" Forgive a haughty English heart. 

And O forget its ruder part ! 

The vacant purse shall be my share, 

Which in my barret-cap Til bear. 

Perchance, in jeopardy of war, 

Where gayer crests may keep afar." 

With thanks, — 't was all she could, — the maid 

His rugged courtesy repaid. 

XI. 

When L>llen forth with I.ewis went, 
Allan made suit to John of Urcnt : 
" My lady safe, O let your grace 
(live me to see my master's face ! 
liis minstrel I, -to share his doom 
liound fi'oin the (M'adle to the tomb. 
Tenth in (Icscent, since first \\\\ sires 
Waked for his noble house tluir Krcs. 



240 The Lady of the Lake. 

Nor one of all the race was known 
But prized its weal above their own. 
With the Chief's birth begins our care ; 
Our harp must soothe the infant heir, 
Teach the youth tales of fight, and grace 
His earliest feat of field or chase ; 
In peace, in war, our rank we keep, 
We cheer his board, we soothe his sleep, 
Nor leave him till we pour our verse, — 
A doleful tribute I — o'er his hearse. 
Then let me share his captive lot ; 
It is my right — deny it not ! " — 
" Little we reck, " said John of Brent, 
** We Southern men, of long descent ; 
Nor wot we how a name — a word — 
Makes clansmen vassals to a lord : 
Yet kind my noble landlord's part, — 
God bless the house of Beaudesert ! 
And, but I loved to drive the deer, 
More than to guide the laboring steer, 
I had not dwelt an outcast here. 
Come, good old Minstrel, follow me ; 
Thy Lord and Chieftain shalt thou see." 

XII. 

Then from a rusted iron hook, 
A bunch of ponderous keys he took, 
Lighted a torch, and Allan led 
Through grated arch and passage dread. 
Portals they pass'd, where, deep within, 
Spoke prisoner's moan, and fetters' din ; 



21ie Lady of the Lake. 



241 



Through rugged vaults, where, loosely stored, 

Lay wheel, and axe, and headsman's sword. 

And many a hideous engine grim. 

For wrenching joint, and crushing limb. 

By artist formed, who deem'd it shame 

And sin to give their work a name. 

They halted at a 

low-brow'd porch. 
And Brent to Allan 

gave the torch, 
While bolt and 

chain he backward 

roll'd, 
And made the bar 

unhasp its hold. 
They enter'd : 'twas 

a prison room 
Of stern security 

and gloom. 
Yet not a dungeon ; for the day 
Through lofty gratings found 
way. 




Its 



A lUNCH OK I'ONDKKOLS 
KEYS HE TDUK. 



And rude and antique garniture 
Deck'd the sad walls and oaken 

floor ; 
Such as the rugged days of old 
Deem'd fit for captive noble's hold. 
" Here," said De Brent, "thou maycst remain 
Till the Leech visit him again. 
Strict is his charge the warders tell, 
To tend the noble prisoner well." 



242 



The Liiih of the Lake. 



Retiring then, the bolt he drew, 
And the lock's murmurs growl'd anew. 
Roused at the sound, from lowly bed 
A captive feebly raised his head : 




Thf.v enter'd : 't was a prison room. 



The wondering Minstrel look'd. and knew- 
Not his dear lord, but Roderick Dhu I 
For, come from where Clan-Alpine fought, 
They, erring, deem'd the Chief he sought. 



21ie Lady of the Lake, 243 



XIII. 

As the tali ship, whose lofty prore 

Shall never stem the billows more, 

Deserted by her gallant band, 

Amid the breakers lies astrand, — 

So, on his couch, lay Roderick Dhii ! 

And oft his fever'd limbs he threw 

In toss abrupt, as when her sides 

Lie rocking in the advancing tides, 

That shake her frame with ceaseless beat, 

Yet cannot heave her from her seat ; — 

O ! how unlike her course at sea ! 

Or his free step on hill and lea ! — 

Soon as the Minstrel he could scan, 

" What of thy lady ? — of my clan ? — 

My mother ? — Douglas ? — tell me all ! 

Have they been ruin'd in my fall ? 

Ah, yes ! or wherefore art thou here ! 

Yet speak, — speak boldly, — do not fear." — 

(For Allan, who his mood well knew, 

Was choked with grief and terror too.) 

" Who fought — who lied ?— (^Id man. he brief ; 

— Some might — for they had lost their Chief. 

Who basely live } — who bravely died }'^ — • 

•' (), calm tiiee, Chief!" — the Minstrel cried. 

•' ICllen is safe ; " — *' For that, thank Heaven I ' 

— ** And hopes are for the Douglas gist-n ;■- 

The Lady Margaret too is well. 

And, for thy clan, — on tlcld or tell, 



2 44 ^/^^' Lady of the Lake. 

Has nevet harp of minstrel told, 
Of combat fought so true and bold, 
Thy stately Pine is yet unbent, 
Though many a goodly bough is rent." 

XIV. 

The Chieftain rear'd his form on high, 

And fever's fire was in his eye ; 

But ghastly, pale, and livid streaks 

Checker'd his swarthy brow and cheeks. 

— " Hark, Minstrel ! I have heard thee play, 

With measure bold, on festal day, 

In yon lone isle, . . . again where ne'er 

Shall harper play, or warrior hear I . . . 

That stirring air that peals on high, 

O'er Dermid's race our victory. — 

Strike it I — and then, (for well thou canst,) 

Free from thy minstrel-spirit glanced. 

Fling me the picture of the fight, 

When met my clan the Saxon might. 

I'll listen till my fancy hears 

The clang of swords, the crash of spears ! 

These grates, these walls, shall vanish then. 

For the fair field of lighting men, 

And my free spirit burst away. 

As if it soar'd from battle fray." 

The trembling Bard with awe obey'd, — 

Slow on the harp his hand he laid ; 

But soon remembrance of the sight 

He witness'd from the mountain's height. 

With what old Bertram told at ni^ht, 



2'he Lady of the Lake. 



245 




Awaken 'd the full 
power of song, 

And bore him in 
career along ; — 

As shallop launch 'd 
on river's tide, 

That slow and fearful leaves the side, 
But when it feels the middle stream, 
Drives downward swift as lightning's beam. 



XV. 

BATTLE OF BEAT/ AN DUINE. 

" The Minstrel came once more to view 
The eastern ridge of Benvenue, 
For ere he parted he would say 
Farewell to lovely Loch Achray — 
Where shall he find in foreign land. 
So lone a lake, so sweet a strand ! — 
There is no breeze upon the fern 

No rip[)le on ihe lake, 
Ui)()n her eyry nods tiic erne. 



246 The Lady of the Lake, 

The deer has sought the brake ; 
The small birds will not sing aloud 

The springing trout lies still, 
So darkly glooms yon thunder-cloud, 
That swathes, as with a purple shroud 

Benledi's distant hill. 
Is it the thunder's solemn sound 

That mutters deep and dread, 
Or echoes from the groaning ground 

The warrior's measured tread ? 
Is it the lightning's quivering glance 

That on the thicket streams, 
Or do they flash on spear and lance 

The sun's retiring beams ? 
— I see the dagger-crest of Mar, 
I see the Moray's silver star. 
Wave o'er the cloud of Saxon war. 
That up the lake comes winding far ! 
To hero boune for battle-strife. 

Or bard of martial lay, 
'T were worth ten years of peaceful life, 

One glance at their array. 



XVI. 

** Their light-arm'd archers far and near 
Survey 'd the tangled ground, 

Their centre ranks, with pike and spear, 
A twilight forest frown'd, 

Their barbed horsemen, in the rear. 
The stern battalia crown'd. 



The Lady of the Lake. 247 

No cymbal clash'd, no clarion rang. 

Still were the pipe and drum ; 
Save heavy tread, and armor's clang, 

The sullen march was dumb. 
There breathed no wind their crests to shake, 

Or wave their flags abroad ; 
Scarce the frail aspen seem'd to quake. 

That shadow'd o'er their road. 
Their vaward scouts no tidings bring, 

Can rouse no lurking foe. 
Nor spy a trace of living thing 

Save when they stirr'd the roe ; 
The host moves, like a deep sea wave, 
Where rise no rocks its pride to brave. 
High-swelling, dark, and slow. 
The lake is pass'd, and now they gain 
A narrow and a broken plain, 
Before the Trosach's rugged jaws : 
And here the horse and spearmen pause, 
While, to explore the dangerous glen. 
Dive through the pass the archcr-mcn. 

XVII. 

" At once there rose so wild a yell 
Within that dark and narrow del!. 
As all the fiends, from heaven that fell, 
Had pcal'd the banner-cry of hell ! 

Forth from the j")ass in lumiilt driven. 

Like chaff before the wind of lu\i\in. 
The archery apjHar; 



248 llie Lady of the Lake, 

For life ! for life I their flight they ply — 
And shriek, and shout, and battle-cry, 
And plaids and bonnets waving high, 
And broadswords flashing to the sky, 

Are maddening in the rear, 
Onward they drive in dreadful race, 

Pursuers and pursued ; 
Before that tide of flight and chase. 
How shall it keep its rooted place, 

The spearmen's twilight wood ? — - 
' Down, down,' crjed Mar, ' your lances down I 

Bear back both friend and foe I ' 
Like reeds before the tempest's frown, 
That serried grove of lances brown 

At once lay levell'd low ; 
And closely shouldering side to side. 
The bristhng ranks the onset bide. — 
* We'll quell the savage mountaineer, 

As their Tinchel cows the game ! 
They come as fleet as forest deer, 

We'll drive them back as tame. 

xvni. 

*' Bearing before them, in their course, 
The relics of the archer force. 
Like wave with crest of sparkling foam. 
Right onward did Clan-Alpine come. 
Above the tide each broadsword bright 
Was brandishing like beam of light, 
Each targe was dark below ; 



The Lady of the Lake, 249 

And with the ocean's mighty swing, 
When heaving to the tempest's wing. 
They hurl'd them on the foe. 
I heard the lance's shivering crash, 
As when the whirlwind rends the ash, 
I heard the broadsword's deadly clang, 
As if an hundred anvils rang ! 
But Moray wheel'd his rearward rank 
Of horsemen on Clan-Alpine's flank, 
— * My banner-man, advance ! 
I see,' he cried, * their column shake. 
Now, gallants ! for your ladies' sake. 

Upon them with the lance ! ' — 
The horsemen dashed among the rout. 

As deer break through the broom ; 
Their steeds are stout, their swords are out, 

They soon make lightsome room. 
Clan-Alpine's best are backward borne — 

Where, where was Roderick then ! 
One blast upon his bugle horn 
Were worth a thousand men. 
And refluent through the pass of fear 

The battle's tide was pour'd ; 
Vanish'd the Saxon's struggling spear, 

Vanish'd the mountain sword. 
As Bracklinn's chasm, so black and steep, 

Receives her roaring linn, 

As the dark caverns of the deep 

Suck the wild whirlpool in. 

So did the deep and darksome pass 

Devour tlu! battle's min«»le(l mass : 



250 The Lady of the Lake. 

None linger now upon the plain, 
Save those who ne'er shall tight again. 



XIX. 

" Now westward rolls the battle's din, 
That deep and doubling pass within, 
— Minstrel, away ! the work of fate 
Is bearing on : its issue wait. 
Where the rude Trosach's dread defile 
Opens on Katrine's lake and isle. — 
Gray Benvenue I soon repass'd. 
Loch Katrine lay beneath me cast. 
The sun is set ; — the clouds are met 

The lowering scowl of heaven 
An inky view of vivid blue 

To the deep lake is given ; 
Strange gusts of wind from mountain glen 
Swept o'er the lake, then sunk agen. 
I heeded not the eddying surge, 
Mine eye but saw the Trosach's gorge. 
Mine ear but heard the sullen sound, 
Which like an earthquake shook the ground, 
And spoke the stern and desperate strife 
That parts not but with parting life, 
Seeming, to minstrel ear, to toll 
The dirge of many a passing soul, 
Nearer it comes — the dim-wood glen 
The martial flood disgorged agen. 

But not in mingled tide ; 



The Lady of the Lake. 



The plaided warriors of the North 
High on the mountain thunder forth 

And overhang its side ; 
While by the lake below appears 
The dark'ning cloud of Saxon spears. 
At weary bay each shatter'd band, 
Eyeing their foeman, sternly stand ; 
Their banners stream like tatter'd sail, 
That flings its fragments to the gale. 
And broken arms and disarray 
Mark'd the fell havoc of the day. 



XX. 

" Viewing the mountain's ridge askance, 
The Saxon stood in sullen trance, 
Till Moray pointed with his lance. 

And cried — ' Behold yon isle ! — 
See ! none are left to guard its strand. 
But women weak, that wring the hand ! 
'T is there of yore the robber band 

Their booty wont to pile ; — 
My purse, with bonnet-pieces store, 
To him will swim a bow-shot o'er, 
And loose a shallop from the shore. 
Lightly we'll tame the war-wolf then. 
Lords of his mate and brood, and tlcn.* 
Forth from the ranks a s[)carman sprung. 
On earth his casciue and corselet rung, 

lie plunged him in the wave; - 
All saw the (\^'v(\ -the purpose knew. 



252 The Lady of the Lake, 

And to their clamors Benvenue 

A mingled echo gave ; 
The Saxon shout, their mate to cheer, 
The helpless females scream for fear, 
And yells for rage the mountaineer. 
'T was then, as by the outcry riven, 
Pour'd down at once the lowering heaven ; 
A whirlwind swept Loch Katrine's breast, 
Her billows rear'd their snowy crest. 
Well for the swimmer swell'd they high, 
To mar the Highland marksman's eye ; 
For round him shower'd, 'mid rain and hail 
The vengeful arrows of the Gael. — 
In vain. — He nears the isle — and lo ! 
His hand is on a shallop's bow. 
— Just then a flash of lightning came, 
It tinged the waves and strand with flame :- 
I mark'd Duncraggan's widow'd dame, 
Behind an oak I saw her stand, 
A naked dirk gleam'd in her hand ; — 
It darken'd, — but amid the moan 
Of waves I heard a dying groan ; — 
Another flash ! — the spearman floats 
A weltering corse beside the boats. 
And the stern Matron o'er him stood. 
Her hand and dagger streaming blood. 

XXI. 

" ' Revenge ! revenge ! ' the Saxons cried, 
The Gaels' exulting shout replied. 
Despite the elemental rage. 



The Lady of the Lake, 



253 



Again they hurried to engage ; 

But ere they closed in desperate fight, 

Bloody with spurring came a knight, 

Sprung from his horse, and, from a crag, 

Waved, twixt the hosts a milk-white flag. 

Clarion and trumpet by his side 

Rung forth a truce-note high and wide, 




A NAk-KI) niKK GLRAm'i) IN HF.R HAND. 



While, in the Monarch's nainc, alar 
A herald's voice forbade the war. 
For l^othwell's lord, and Roderick bo 
Were both, he said, in captive hold." 



2 54 ^^^^ Lady of the Lake, 

— But here the lay made sudden stand, 

The harp escaped the Minstrel's hand ! — 

Oft had he stolen a glance, to spy 

How Roderick brook'd his minstrelsy : 

At tirst, the Chieftain, to the chime, 

With lifted hand kept feeble time : 

That motion ceased, — yet feeling strong 

Varied his look as changed the sound ; 

At length, no more his deafen'd ear 

The minstrel melody can hear ; 

His face grows sharp, — his hands are clench'd, 

As if some pang his heart-strings wrench'd ; 

Set are his teeth, his fading eye 

Is sternly fixed on vacancy ; 

Thus, motionless, and moanless, drew 

His parting breath, stout Roderick Dhu I — 

Old Allan-Bane look'd on aghast, 

While grim and still his spirit pass'd ; 

But when he saw that life was fled, 

He pour'd his wailing o'er the dead. 



xxn. 

LAMENT. 

" And art thou cold and lowly laid, 
Thy foeman's dread, thy people's aid, 
Breadalbane's boast, Clan-Alpine's shade I 
For thee shall none a requiem say? 
— For thee, — who loved the minstrel's lay, 
For thee of Bothwell's house the stay, 



The Lady of the Lake. 



The shelter of her exiled line, 
E'en in this prison-house of thine, 
I'll wail for Alpine's honor'd Pine. 

" What groans shall yonder valleys fill ! 
What shrieks of grief shall rend yon hill ! 
What tears of burning rage shall thrill, 




All 



^-l^ 



Wi: LOOK I) 



>.N A (.11 AST. 



When mourns thy tribe thy battK's done. 
Thy fall before the race was won. 



256 The Lady of the Lake, 

Thy sword ungirt ere set of sun ! 
There breathes not clansman of thy line, 
But would have given his life for thine.— 
O woe for Alpine's honor'd Pine ! 

*' Sad was thy lot on mortal stage ! — 
The captive thrush may brook the cage, 
The prison'd eagle dies for rage. 
Brave spirit, do not scorn my strain ! 
And, when its notes awake again, 
Even she, so long beloved in vain, 
Shall with my harp her voice combine, 
And mix her woe and tears with mine. 
To wail Clan Alpine's honor'd Pine.'' 



XXIII. 

Ellen, the while, with bursting heart, 

Remain'd in lordly bower apart, 

Where play'd, with many-color'd gleams, 

Through storied pane the rising beams. 

In vain on gilded roof they fall. 

And lighten'd up a tapestried wall, 

And for her use a menial train 

A rich collation spread in vain. 

The banquet proud, the chamber gray, 

Scarce drew one curious glance astray ; 

Or, if she look'd, 't was but to say, 

With better omen dawn'd the day 

In that lone isle, where waved on high 

The dun-deer's hide for canopy ; 



The Lady of the Lake. 257 




Till'; WINDDW SKKKS Willi CAUrilUS IKKAI). 



258 The Lady of the Lake, 

Where oft her noble father shared 
The simple meal her care prepared, 
While Lufra, crouching by her side, 
Her station claim'd with jealous pride, 
And Douglas, bent on woodland game, 
Spoke of the chase to Malcolm Gr^me, 
Whose answer oft at random made, 
The wandering of his thoughts betrayed. — 
Those who such simple joys have known, 
Are taught to prize them when they're gone. 
But sudden, see, she lifts her head ! 
The window seeks with cautious tread. 
What distant music has the power 
To win her in this woful hour I 
'T was from a turret that o'erhung 
Her latticed bower, the strain was sung. 



XXIV. 

LAY OF THE IMPRISONED HUNTSMAN. 

" My hawk is tired of perch and hood. 

My idle greyhound loathes his food. 

My horse is weary of his stall. 

And I am sick of captive thrall. 

I wish I were as I have been. 

Hunting the hart in forest green, 

With bended bow and bloodhound free, 

For that's the life is meet for me. 

I hate to learn the ebb of time. 

From von dull steeple's drowsv chime. 



llie Lady of the Lake, 259 

Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl, 
Inch after inch, along the wall. 
The lark was wont my matins ring. 
The sable rook my vespers sing ; 
These towers, although a king's they be, 
Have not a hall of joy for me. 
No more at dawming morn I rise, 
And sun myself in Ellen's eyes, 
Drive the fleet deer the forest through, 
And homeward wend the evening dew 
A blithesome welcome blithely meet, 
And lay my trophies at her feet 
While fled the eve on wing of glee, — 
That life is lost to love and me ! " 

XXV. 

That heart-sick lay was hardly said, 
The list'ner had not turn'd her head. 
It trickled still, the starting tear. 
When light a footstep struck her ear, 
And Snowdoun's graceful knight was near. 
She turn'd the hastier, lest again 
The prisoner should renew his strain. 
"0 welcome, brave Fitz-James ! " she said, 
" How may an almost orphan maid 

Pay the deep debt " " O say not so ! 

To me no gratitude you owe. 

Not mine, alas ! the boon to give. 

And bid tin' noble father live ; 

I can but be thy guide, sweet maid. 

With Scotland's King thy suit to aid. 



2 6o 21u Lady of the Lake. 

No tyrant he, though ire and pride 
May lay his better mood aside. 
Come, Ellen, come ! — 't is more than time, 
He holds his court at morning prime." 
With beating heart, and bosom wrung, 
As to a brother's arm she clung, 
Gently he dried the falling tear, 
And gently whisper'd hope and cheer ; 
Her faltering steps half led, half stay'd, 
Through gallery fair and high arcade. 
Till, at his touch, its wings of pride 
A portal arch unfolded wide. 

XXVI. 

Within 't was brilliant all and light, 
A thronging scene of figures bright ; 
It glow'd on Ellen's dazzled sight, 
As when the setting sun has given 
Ten thousand hues to summer even, 
And from their tissue, fancy frames 
Aerial knights and fairy dames. 
Still by Fitz-James her footing stay'd ; 
A few faint steps she forward made. 
Then slow her drooping head she raised. 
And fearful round the presence gazed ; 
For him she sought, who own'd this state. 
The dreaded prince whose will was fate ! — 
She gazed on many a princely port, 
Might well have ruled a royal court ; 
On many a splendid garb she gazed,— 
Then turn'd bewilder'd and amazed, 



The Lady of the Lake, 261 

For all stood bare ; and, in the room, 
Fitz-James alone wore cap and plume, 
To him each lady's look was lent ; 
On him each courtier's eye was bent ; 
Midsl furs and silks and jewels sheen, 
He stood in simple Lincoln green, 
The centre of the glittering ring. — 
And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King ! 

XXVII. 

As wreath of snow, on mountain-breast, 

Slides from the rock that gave it rest, 

Poor Ellen glided from her stay, 

And at the Monarch's feet she lay ; 

No word her choking voice commands, — 

She show'd the ring — she clasp'd her hands. 

O ! not a moment could he brook, 

The generous prince, that suppliant look ! 

Gently he raised her, — and, the while, 

Check'd with a glance the circle's smile ; 

(graceful, but grave, her brow he kiss'd, 

And bade her terrors be dismiss'd : 

"Yes, Fair; the wandering poor Fitz-James 

The fealty of Scotland claims. 

To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring ; 

He will redeem his signet-ring. 

Ask naught for Douglas ; — ycster oven, 

llis prince and he have much forgiven : 

Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue, 

1, from his rebel kinsmen wrong. 



262 The Lady of the Lake, 

We would not to the vulgar crowd 
Yield what they craved with clamor loud ; 
Calmly we heard and judged his cause, 
Our council aided, and our laws. 
I stanch'd thy father's death-feud stern, 
With stout De Vaux and Grey Glencairn ; 
And Bothwell's Lord henceforth we own 
The friend and bulwark of our Throne.— 
But, lovely infidel, how now.'^ 
What clouds thy misbelieving brow } 
Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid ; 
Thou must confirm this doubting maid." 

XXVI I L 

Then forth the noble Douglas sprung, 

And on his neck his daughter hung. 

The monarch drank, that happy hour, 

The sweetest, holiest draught of Power, — 

When it can say, with godlike voice. 

Arise, sad virtue, and rejoice ! 

Yet would not James the general eye 

On Nature's rapturis long should pry ; 

He stepp'd between — '* Nay, Douglas, nay. 

Steal not my proselyte away ! 

The riddle 't is my right to read, 

That brought this happy chance to speed. — 

Yes, Ellen, when, disguised, I stray 

In life's more low but happier way, 

'T is under name which veils my power, 

Nor falsely veils — for Stirling's tower 



The Lady of the Lake, 263 

Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims, 

And Normans call me James P^itz- James. 

Thus watch 1 o'er insulted laws, 

Thus learn to right the injured cause." — 

Then, in a tone apart and low, 

— ** Ah, little trait'ress ! none must know 

What idle dream, what lighter thought, 

What vanity full dearly bought, 

Join'd to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew 

My spell-bound steps to Benvenue, 

In dangerous hour, and almost gave 

Thy Monarch's life to mountain glaive ! " — 

Aloud he spoke — '* Thou still dost hold 

That little talisman of gold, 

Pledge of my faith, Fitz-James's ring — 

What seeks fair Ellen of the king } " 

XXIX. 

Full well the conscious maiden guess'd 

He probed the weakness of her breast; 

But, with that consciousness, there came 

A lightening of her fears for GraMiic. 

And more she deem'd the monarch's ire 

Kindled 'gainst him, who, for her sire 

Rebellious broadsword boldly drew ; 

And, to her generous feeling true. 

She craved the grace of Roderick Dim. 

" PV)rbear thy suit: the King of kings 

Alone can stay life's parting wings. 

I know his heart, 1 know his haiui. 

Have shared his cheer and proxcd his hiantl : — 



264 The Lady of the Lake, 

My fairest earldom would I give 
To bid Clan-Alpine's Chieftain live ! — 
Hast thou no other boon to crave ? 
No other captive friend to save ? " 
Blushing, she turn'd her from the King, 
And to the Douglas gave the ring, 
As if she wish'd her sire to speak 
The suit that stain'd her glowing cheek. — 
" Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force, 
And stubborn justice holds her course. — 
Malcom come forth ! " — And, at the word, 
Down kneel'd the Graeme to Scotland's Lord. 
*' For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues, 
From thee may Vengeance claim her dues. 
Who, nurtured underneath our smile, 
Hast paid our care by treacherous wile. 
And sought, amid thy faithful clan, 
A refuge for an outlaw'd man, 
Dishonoring thus thy royal name. — • 

Fetters and warder for the Grseme ! " 

His chain of gold the King unstrung, 
The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung, 
Then gently drew the glittering band, 
And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand. 



Harp of the North, farewell ! The hills grow 

dark, 
On purple peaks a deeper shade descending ; 
In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her 

spark. 



The Lady oj the Lake, 



265 




.i 






Tiiii i.iNk^ >i i.K M.\iAi)i.M*s NKCK HI- y\\ 



2 66 21ie Lady of the Lake. 

The deer, half-seen, are to the covert wend- 
ing. 
Resume thy wizard elm ! the fountain lending, 
And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy ; 
Thy numbers sweet with nature's vespers 
blending. 
With distant echo from the fold and lea, 
And herd-boy's evening pipe, and hum of hous- 
ing bee. 

Yet, once again, farewell, thou Minstrel Harp I 

Yet, once again, forgive my feeble sway, 
And Httle reck I of the censure sharp 

May idly cavil at an idle lay. 
]\Iuch have I owed thy strains on life's long way. 

Through secret woes the world has never 
known, 
\Yhen on the weary night dawn'd wearier day. 

And bitterer was the grief devour'd alone. 
That I o'erlive such woes. Enchantress ! is thine 
own. 

Hark I as my lingering footsteps slow retire, 

Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string ! 
'T is now a seraph bold, with touch of fire, 

'T is now the brush of Fairy's frolic wing. 
Receding now, the dying numbers ring 

Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell. 
And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring 

A wandering witch-note of the distant spell — 
And now, 't is silent all I — Enchantress, fare thee 
well ! 



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